


Cathedrals of Our Making

by WhatADeer



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Darth Tantrum and his Evil Space Ginger, Fluff, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force-Sensitive Hux, Forced Bonding, Hux is Not Nice, Implied Sexual Content, Just Trying to Survive Murder School, Kylo Ren Has Issues, M/M, Mind Control, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Murder Husbands, Phasma Is a Bad Friend, Power Hungry Space Nerds, Pre-Canon, Slow Burn, Snoke Ships It, Teen Angst, Teenagers, depression and anxiety, feelings are gross, supposedly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-05-28 15:38:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 78,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15052412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatADeer/pseuds/WhatADeer
Summary: SV1632, formerly Ben Solo, is rising through the ranks of the Disciplinary Academy of Order at alarming speed, proving himself worthy of the mercy granted him despite his traitor's blood.When upcoming lieutenant AR0046, one Armitage Hux, is promoted above him, it throws a wrench in Ben's plans. Suddenly, making each other's lives as difficult as possible has become a main objective. It's only a matter of time before someone gets hurt- or conveniently absent for the forseeable future.Come Evaluations, they'll never have to see each other again, murder unnecessary. Graduation is just around the corner. They just have to deal with each other until then.This would all be well and good, of course, if it weren't for the freaky space-magic bond ruining their lives.Who doesn't love a good soulmate AU?





	1. Altar to the Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guilt doesn't feel nice and neither do intimidation tactics. Don't you hate it when someone tries to take your place?
> 
> ie. the one when kylo didn't do anything and still got yelled at

He can't block out her voice. It echoes in his head, his dreams. She chides him, coddles him, soothes him in all the ways she never did in their life before, and such dreams haunt him even in waking. Whispers of love and glory and empty promises rattle about his brain long into the day, mingled with other such bitter impossibilities he wished he didn't crave. Every morning, he rises from his bunk with a sour taste in his mouth and a scowl, nausea and dread eating at him in a darkness much unwelcome. He can't help it- the unfulfilled urge to gouge out his own eyes or jab pencils into his ear drums leaves him in poor spirits. There would hardly be a point anyhow. Such fantasies of comfort, taunting and cruel in their unreality, were seated too deeply in his heart to dig out. To burn away the wanting would take the anger with it, and he needed that, needed it like air. In any case, self-mutilation in an attempt to regain sanity- or perhaps lose it - would reap no reward. The mother he dreamt of would not be silenced by pain. Force knows how many times he'd tried to end it that way.

Ben lingered at the window, still half bundled into his sheets and blanket. They were the only barrier between his skin and the only just bearable cold, the fine woven linen smooth against his face, smelled like  _ safe _ and  _ mine _ and  _ home _ . The Jedi temple had woolen bedthings that scratched and bit, straw mattresses that stabbed if he turned just the wrong way. They had smelled like  _ trying _ and  _ please _ and  _ sorry _ . As detached as the Order was, he couldn't help but prefer it. Its bluntness was more than a cup of fresh water, it was a bath. 

The dark of the room was isolating in a comfortable sort of way; the way that made him feel cocooned and protected. Sleeping by the window, a position earned by intimidation and rank, earned him the welcome sight of the soft blue-gray glow cast over his bed. With the imposing darkness of the room pressing in on him as a snowy kind of silence, it gave him leave to ease into a sort of trance- a soothing mindlessness that buffeted the unsettling  _ rawopenwethurt _ of the dream. The rest of the unit was in bed still, the peaceful murmur of sleep the only soft thing about this place; not even the creaking of HN2471’s bunk above him could break the haze of uncommon ease. It was dark outside, but that wasn't surprising. It was always dark. Kamino had one sun, and surely it rose and fell with the days, but the rolling clouds, black with rain, obscured all stars. It was an ocean planet, the same used to house and train the original clones of the Galactic Empire. It's roaring winds and raging waters surrounded the base on all sides, keeping intruders out just as much as keeping soldiers in. Now, Ben stared out over the edge of the base toward the churning sea, brooding. The pane caught his eye briefly and Ben noted the lack of frost. It may be warmer today. 

Outdoor activity on Kamino was limited; the air was cold enough and the wind was strong enough to abrade the skin after a few hours’ exposure, every gust carrying with it shards of half-formed hail. Any man caught on deck without a helmet risked an eye. Any boy foolish enough to try their luck overboard died of shock, drowned, was torn apart by the ferocious current, or was eaten by one of the unnamed beasts roaming the sea. Ben would not have been surprised if it were some combination of a few that claimed the lives of the young- or the unlucky, as accidents were not uncommon amongst those in higher rank. Not that Ben would know anything about that.

Kamino was home to the Disciplinary Academy of Order, an institution not unlike the New Republic’s military school. The DAO had all the classics: flight training, engineering, hand to hand combat, chemical and bio warfare, strategy, weapons training, war history, diplomacy and negotiation- although that course in particular resembled something more like intimidation tactics used to manipulate the weak minded. The main difference between both schools were the causes they served. NRA graduates were accepted into the First Order’s ranks on occasion after an intensive screening process, though members of their own took president. Rebel scum kept prisoners of war for bartering chips and threw them away- Ben didn't even think they had the brains to use them for information, not that any Imperialist would give it. The First Order, at least, was forgiving of rebels who saw the wisdom of the other side. If one could prove their loyalty and devotion, flush the rebellion from their very veins, admission was a ready process, protection a sure thing. The so-called Resistance would never be so liberal. They were paranoid, traitors by birth, conservatives unable to see progress and the benefit of a new way. The Resistance claimed to believe in truth. Ben thought it funny, now, that so many had yet to realize that truth was, in itself, fear. Truth was painful, it was scary, it was ugly and had large teeth and swallowed whole and spared none. The fanciful delusion of the Jedi, that there could be life without such fundamental emotion, made him sick. No hate meant no love, no fear meant no courage. If beasts were their nature, then by the Force, let them be beasts. To cage such raw power and feeling was idiotic; such cages brought a sense of complacency and security when the frightful truth was that onlookers were anything but safe. In time, those caged, poked, mocked would break free of their faulty cells. Only blood and power would remain, made all the richer by its brooding in the blackness. Such things could be avoided, of course, if only there weren't cages. In the ranks of the Rebellion, the Jedi, there was very little beyond repression and lies.

It had been three years since his induction. Even after more than a decade on the other side, on that forsaken island with That Man, under the control of Those People, Ben had been startlingly easy to convince. It took less than a month once the seeds of indignation were planted, the outrage taking root in the broken cleft of his heart. He was seventeen now, and at times, still failed to respond to his serial number. Those of his same age were lightyears above him, better trained, more disciplined, more qualified, yet they feared him. Ben was raw energy and resilience. When beaten down, he came back again, harder, and without mercy.  In three years time, he had made up fifteen years worth of training- frankly, rivals would be stupid not to be scared. He may still be two years behind, at rank with the fifteen year olds he dwarfed and outmatched, but Ben was willing to bet he could make up the rest in six months, maybe a year if the work was particularly difficult. The Supreme Leader liked him, supported him, tracked his every success and failure. He'd be over them all someday. Soon, he thought, surely. He was already going five times as fast as the rest, as difficult as it had been at first. Proving his loyalty and devotion was why he was still here on this disgusting waste of a base. He was a born traitor granted the ultimate mercies. This penance, containing his power, suffering to remain complicit amongst the thousands of lesser beings only served to prepare him for trial much more taxing and reward far greater than title alone. His time here would amputate the black limb of his past. The Academy would cleanse him; flush the rebellion from his very veins.

“-SV1632!” Ben jumped. He had been lost in the sea outside his window, musing as he sometimes did early in the mornings and late into the night. The scene never seemed to change, arcs of lightning breaking in and about the horizon to the sky as the black water frothed like a rabid animal. Kamino churned endlessly, the monotony hypnotizing and lethal. After a moment, he looked to the young man who had called for him. The boy was red-faced, splotched with an uneven complexion that flushed too bright in the lips, the nose, the ears, deathly pale everywhere else. Sickly, then, Ben thought. He didn't recognize him, must be new. The boy would die easy on his own by wintertime; this particular toon trained in the thick of the storm, and after this brief warm front passed, it would only get colder. They lost newbies every year. When the wet new kid continued to stare holes into his head, Ben found on further inspection that he was indeed soaked through and trembling, he rose to his feet. His limbs felt like blocks of wood; there was no telling just how long he had been awake. Hours, likely, as he'd somehow missed the rest of the outfit not only getting up, but leaving altogether. He must have slipped into meditation by accident, a poor habit left over from his time at the Jedi temple. The movement accompanied by the heavy sound of his feet on the ground brought his other senses roaring to life as he was suddenly fiercely aware of his hunger, his stiffness from training the day before, and the pounding headache he'd quieted with force shields up until he was startled out of them. It was hard to surprise him, everyone knew that. Even the cadet in the doorway seemed caught off guard, staring wide eyed in the soft dark. It irritated him that he was still there, standing stiff, waiting. Waiting for what? He was clearly coming, he'd gotten the message. Ben set his jaw and glared for good measure; if he knew what was good for him, he'd turn a blind eye and march back into the kriffing ocean. The boy tensed, but without his fear signature ringing like the strum of a guitar chord through the Force, Ben wouldn't have known just how unsettled he was. He didn't bother to hide his smugness and instead stretched his limbs carelessly, shamelessly flaunting the fact that, compared to Ben, the guy was beyond tiny. To his amusement and annoyance, the boy spoke up again.

“SV1632, you're late to breakfast. You missed it entirely, in fact.” The cadet quipped sharply. His voice cracked and the words lost their sting, laughable instead. He couldn't be more than fourteen. “The rest of the unit has gone on to the training docks,” he continued, putting on an air of aloof superiority that thinly veiled the discomfort Ben knew for certain he felt, “and while you dallied in bed, lost valuable time and energy executing formations and strategies that require all parties. You are to report to the dock immediately.”

Ben coughed a humorless laugh. He couldn't possibly be in trouble if they'd sent this squib of a trooper to discipline him. He took his time pulling on the uniform issued black sweater, the knit socks, the loose grey pants as the cadet seemed to get redder and redder, through his face and down his neck, under the wet uniform that should have clung to him. Instead, it hung off of his slight frame, heavy with water, as though the launderers gave him the wrong size by mistake. He looked even more ridiculous angry, his whole body wound up tight like a cute little coiled spring. Ben paid him no mind. He continued about his routine easily, already a good six inches taller than his unit mates and growing, probably more compared to his lovely morning attendant. He was broad and strong and he knew it. Very few dared to challenge him, knowing just how easily the notorious SV1632 could snap. In a removed way, Ben could respect the fact that the little officer hadn't run away or cried yet, though he might start up soon. Ben was dangerous and everyone knew it. SV, they whispered in the halls and in the dark, stood for Son of Vader.

“SV1632, you are to report to the training dock this instant!” came the wavering adolescent voice of the boy in the door. It had conviction now, anger knit into the chords. Indignance rang through the air between them. Ben could swear he could almost feel the ripple buffer against his body, a steady wave. The pain ran deep in this one, black and thick like tar, dark and angry enough that the Force could sense it- that he could taste it. Auras were seldom so strong as this, and the sudden release of energy had him on edge. Ben crossed the gaping distance between them in a few quick strides, close enough to actively look down on the boy in front of him, close enough that he could see how bright his eyes were, could count the blonde lashes framing them, could measure just how frail he really was. Was he Force Sensitive? Was he a threat? Was he afraid? He came to the sour conclusion that no, he was not. Instead, from him came picks of annoyance, as though Ben were nothing more than an insubordinate pest. Ben hardened his gaze.

“Do as you have been told or suffer the consequences. This very exchange is damning enough for a report- I will not repeat myself again,” came the steely warning. Ben felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise.

“On whose orders?” he snarled.

“ _ Mine _ ,” the boy growled in turn, drawing himself taller than before. “Watch your tone, 1632,” he continued, and Ben opened his mouth to protest, more likely to yell. He didn't get more than a word out before he was cut off by the quiet firmness of his adversary’s next words. “You speak to a superior officer.”

That threw him. Ben’s words died in his throat and for a moment, seemed to pale. A trick of the light, surely. The cadet didn't move, didn't flinch, just stood stock still with his hands behind his back in his stupid too-big uniform- he wasn't even shaking anymore, and Hoth if that didn't take self control. Ben knew that he had to be freezing.

Ben blinked stupidly for only a moment, his voice sounding horribly petulant to his own ears. “You're on my dock! Only those affiliated with the Knights have jurisdiction here, and I've never even seen you before. You could be anyone- I'm the acting Lieutenant of this troop, you can't boss me around!” By the end, Ben was the one trembling. It was his hands, shaking lightly with poorly restrained anger. His eyes were wild, he knew they must be. Bright with what Han called a healthy dose of feeling, his mother called potential, That Man called fear and weakness and desperation and his downfall and-

“Key word, acting. That ends today.”

This close up, Ben could see the emblem tucked just beneath the lapel of his coat, see the color scheme, count the stripes. Force.

“AR0046.” Ben heard himself say numbly, “You weren't supposed to usurp command for another week.”

“Usurp” had the shorter of them raising an eyebrow, but he didn't address it further. Suddenly, infuriatingly, it was Ben who felt small.

“Get out of my face, SV1632.” The command was calm, bored- a dismissal if Ben had ever heard one. Before he knew what he was doing, he had taken a few steps back.

“Now,” said the lieutenant, all traces of uncertainty and wavering inexperience lost from his tone, “you will continue serving as Assistant Lieutenant under my command until further notice.” Ben didn't dare look relieved. AR0046 was smug, in control, and he took a harsh step forward in those steel-toed boots. His voice was cruel. “Do not doubt that I will work day and night to find reason to displace you. I cannot have you discharged without serious infraction, what with your various,” a scowl came over his features, “ _ protections _ , but I will find a way around them. I don't like you, SV1632, and if it's the Knights you want to join so badly, I will do everything in my power to sabotage you.”

“You didn't answer my question,” Ben said, surprising even himself with his nerve. It just came out of his mouth. He hadn't thought much, but the last word was the only thing he could win at this point. There was a heavy moment, where AR0046 just looked at him with his cold blue eyes and questing expression and Ben held his breath. Eventually, the Lieutenant scoffed. “You're quite serious?” The mask nearly broke, as thin as it was from youth alone, and Ben could see an amazed sort of mirth, a madness, dancing behind it. “The ridiculousness of it, that I could make such a serious threat and you didn't even seem to hear it, it's- Stars, they told me you were dense. Thank the Sith I came out early, then. Force knows you'd have the whole toon killed by the time I showed up. Frankly, SV1632, I don't have to answer you at all. I don't  _ have _ to do anything. I am in charge here and you are subservient to me, assuming you even know what that word means.” He smiled when Ben grit his teeth, and the anger in him steadily welled over his shock. “As I said: you are to report to the training dock immediately. I will give you five minutes, and before you say anything, I could just as easily send you out there as you are: half dressed and unarmed in the rain. I'll see you on the field.”

His bemused expression made bile rise in Ben’s throat. He turned on his heel, then, and just like that, he was gone with the slam of a door. He left Ben in the room, cold and empty and oh so oppressively dark.

 

\-----------

 

The training dock on the S5 sector of base was not as alive with activity as usual today. The rain bounced off of the plexiglass shields, keeping those inside dry and safer from, though not immune to, the threat of hypothermia. The absence of the famed Son of Vader was gaping, leaving the group of twelve aimless and wandering. 

Ben’s retreats into meditation were not uncommon, but such disappearances rarely crept into actual working time. The sight of their leader staring blank and soulless into the storms beyond the base was unnerving, and on days such as this, the toon did everything in their power not to disturb him. The last soldier to attempt to jostle him out of it was on the ground so fast, sputtering and blue, eyes red and threatening to pop out of his skull, that none dared even breathe in Ben’s direction when in such a state. It was the touching that had done it, really. 

He'd perceived it as an attack and defended himself accordingly, if not overzealously. It wasn't until Ben sensed the flutter of the boy's heartbeat slowing, a gasped, “Sir!” pleading in his ear that the red haze went from his eyes. Ben had leapt back as if burned, because no, it wasn't That Man poised over his bed with intent to kill. It had been one of his own, a kid, and the revulsion that roared to life under his skin was palpable.  _ A lot of Those People were kids, too, _ that voice, his mother's voice, had whispered.  _ Why should this one be any different to you? Benjamin, everyone already knows what you really are. _

He'd ordered everyone to the dock in a gruff voice.

_ A monster. _

They'd scattered like cockroaches.

_ There's no point pretending to be anything else. _

And that was when he broke. It was just like it had been the first time, and every time since he'd succumbed to the darkness in his head that had tapped, then knocked, then banged until he let it in- or perhaps he had let it out. There came the blinding anger again, a tool, a weapon, a liability. The little discipline he did have had stopped him just shy of killing, but alone then, he had let the wave wash over him and the depths drag him down. When the floor was cracked and the windows were shattered and the metal bed frames were twisted out of shape, the beast was sated, the ocean let him go. Rejuvenated, Ben had joined his men as though it were any other day.

Today, he had been disturbed again, but it was different. The anger hadn't come, usually so ready at his fingertips. The lieutenant had somehow quieted him, compelled the ocean to be still, and it struck Ben with such an uncomfortable coldness (he would not admit to fear, he would  _ not) _ that he was rendered helpless. Why was he obeying? Why, instead of channeling through him and out, did the rage build up and stretch his skin tight to bursting? Why was he holding so much back? This was what he asked himself as synthflesh gave way beneath his fists, hitting and hitting and hitting and hitting until it was clear that any being with the light of life in it would have long ago been snuffed out.

Ben had expected AR0046 to make some kind of display of power, perhaps make an example. Instead, he patrolled in firm silence, making a round every now and again while spending most of his time surveying the way the outfit itself operated. He had changed at the same time Ben had, likely the real reason he had so generously been given five minutes, and the sight of his apparent superior in the fitted tracksuit, dark blue and washing out his already incredibly white skin, put a bubble of some feeling or other in his throat. It was a sensation not unlike choking, causing a fuzzy lightness to pick at his temples and buzz about his insides. Without the darkness of the cabin, Ben noticed brilliantly red hair peeking from below his cap, adding one more visually unsettling characteristic to the list of things Ben could hate. Other significant factors were his voice, the klack of his boots on the hard floor, and the cinched waist of what ought to be a generally unattractive uniform. It had barely been an hour, and already Ben felt caged by his presence. 

It was with a sinking, sick feeling that he realized that  _ he _ was the example; the debacle this morning was the display of power. Stepping out of the cabin untouched and unperturbed followed by Ben, who was clearly seething as he stalked begrudgingly behind him, was more than enough to send a message to the rest of the unit. The master had muzzled the dog, and snarling against his restraints, Ben raged within himself over where it all had come from. Perhaps it had been his manner. AR was quiet and to the point, so different from Ben’s explosive and rambling way. Maybe it was because he hadn't been afraid of him for more than a second, hadn't let Ben intimidate him into submission. He couldn’t put the sense of dread he felt in the cabin out of his mind. AR0046 exhibited a pushback of energy he hadn't felt from another person since the Jedi temple. It wasn't nearly as strong, a blip on the radar as far as the Force was concerned, but he could feel it with little effort. No one he had met face to face since coming to the Academy had been on the radar at all. That had to be it. His reaction to such energy had to be attributed to old constraints, old controls and buttons in his brain he hadn't thought to excavate. It was a remnant of the thoughtless obedience so characteristic of the Jedi that AR0046 had managed to somehow trigger, much to Ben’s chagrin.

If he didn't let up on the training dummy, it would break; they had already wasted so much time. The warm up was over.

Slightly damp from the shocking cold of the rainy walk over and thrumming with heat from the bright pain in his hands, SV1632 called his men to him. They scurried to his command, ill at ease with the oddity of the morning. Ben tucked that irritation somewhere in his gut to fester. His troops ought to be drill ready and grounded, always. Fine, let them show how shamelessly terrified of him they were. Let them be a display of  _ his _ power. AR0046 intended to have him replaced? Ben would make himself indispensable.

The exercise that came clearest to him was combat, something the lieutenant couldn't possibly contend in. Ben was always a mingled sense of impressed and jealous when he saw others succeed effortlessly at something he struggled with. If he could provoke that feeling in his new commander, then by the stars, that was  _ fabulous _ . The twelve members of unit S5, while little over the age of fifteen and a tad less than half still approaching the threshold, were admittedly large in stature. Their previous commander had worked them hard, and in his absence, so had Ben. He hadn't been officially promoted yet, Force knew why, but he had expected to simply take JL5489’s place. The boys knew him, trusted him, and performed well under his instruction though his methods could be unconventional. For an entirely new leader to just step in with no integration at all, and for it to be someone so incredibly ill suited to their main skill set made no sense. Sector S5 was brute strength, ground troops meant not only to do collateral damage, but also to clear the path for the finer, more thorough units in charge of sifting the wreckage. The best of them went on to join the Knights of Ren. They earned power, education, recognition- everything Ben wanted. They earned names. All officers did, if they rose high enough. It left a sour taste in his mouth knowing that AR0046 was closer than him, that in a promotion or two, he could be more than a number on a registry.

Ben split the boys into pairs, the last being a trio of himself and two others. He wasn't the strongest of all of them, and his height was as much of a help as it was a hindrance, but he was fast and smart. He perceived more, learned faster, and fought harder. For those reasons, everyone agreed that, for Ben, two to one was a fair fight.

Ben could feel the lieutenant’s eyes on him as he barked which weapons would go to who, who would fight where, how many rounds, what the reward would be. From time to time, checking if he was still watching, Ben caught his eye on accident before quickly looking away. It seemed he had AR’s undivided attention. The limelight was something that, contrary to popular belief, the Son of Vader did not bask in or enjoy- at least not from him. AR0046 made him feel scrutinized and judged, inadequate. With anyone else he considered a rival, Ben flaunted himself and his influence.  _ Look at me, _ he would think.  _ Look at all the things you can never be. _

No one, especially someone he had just met, had any right to this much leverage over him. As the matches began, tournament style, Ben felt it in his blood. The chasm opened in a rush of turbulence and suddenly, the anger was there waiting. His focus narrowed to his task and his only thoughts were calculations, his senses fine tuned to the quiet hum of the signatures around him. He could feel the steps before they were taken. He could sense the decision before it was carried out, block, parry, dodge, strike. His brothers in arms became nothing but opponents to him. They were obstacles in his path to everything he deserved. Even if that reward, a distant hope that Ben himself couldn't understand or decipher, never came to be, it wouldn't matter. That would serve as more fuel to burn in future battle where, surely, there was more to be won, more ground to be leveled by his hand. Oh, yes. Two to one was more than fair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You get a name when you're no longer inconsequential. Everyone else has been at the academy since birth, practically, so Ben’s the only one with a former life.  
> Supposedly.


	2. Worthy Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lieutenant Armitage decides he's had enough of Mr. Important's garbage- he ought to put him in his place.  
> When he does something about it, however, their encounter doesn't exactly go to plan.
> 
> ie. that one time hux thought cornering kylo was a solid a+ idea

It was a nightmare. He'd never seen such a lack of order on-planet. He had never seen such thoughtless abandonment of self control, especially on a scale as big as a whole unit. Granted, S5 was only one of many of the ground troop docks, but it was certainly the most famous. SV1632 was why. 

How could anyone authorize this? Who could justify leaving this lunatic in charge?

Armitage worried his inner lip. That was one of the names he was considering for whenever he got out of here. So far, he thought it sounded okay- different, but okay. He watched with muted panic and a disgusting sense of helplessness as the boys circled each other, baring their teeth like animals.

To pull in the reins on the troops, he had to do the same on their ring leader. Humiliating him did nothing but make his second angrier, as though that were possible, and made the whole outfit restless and agitated. They resented him for it, ignored him and pushed him out as though SV’s wounded pride was enough cause to knit them closer. Kept out of the active training and left to meander along the bare edge, Armitage could see that they were savages. There was no safe way to intervene.

His father had gotten him this position, had cautioned him of the importance of his role here. He had to bring order to the rowdiest, most violent part of base on the planet. He was in no way qualified, the person leading them ought to be an adult, but the General had seen fit to give him this opportunity. He knew it was a test to see if he was still worth his time- that the man's acceptance and disclosure of their relationship in the future had everything to do with this mission. Even if Armitage didn't care particularly for the familial aspect, the General had power and money and connections. Starting his career so early and with such a head start was invaluable; to lose it would be devastating. Achieving his goals would take that much longer. He had to bring the unit under control.

S5 was barely civilized. In the beginning, he'd thought it was a show for his benefit, something meant to scare him off, but it had been over an hour and three duels had taken place. The losers were left unconscious. The only rule seemed to be fighting dirty, biting and playing on sympathy or hesitation. SV drilled the humanity out of them, doing away with dignity and honor and reducing war to blood and death and victory. Fair didn't matter, casualties didn't matter; what counted was power and success of the mission. To a point, Hux knew intellectually that that was no safe mentality to teach a group of potential rogues. The primitive nature of it, however, the near animalistic establishment of hierarchy was attractive enough that Hux felt a twinge of guilt at his pleasure. It was so different from every other sector. That was why he was here, of course: to do away with it and establish a new order. He was make S5 compatible with the rest of the army, and hopefully get out of it alive. Looking at the scene before him, though, that seemed to lean on the cusp of unlikely to impossible.

Medi-droids waited just outside the ring of onlookers, treating the cuts and scrapes and concussions of the injured until they were well enough to go back and participate. He failed to see how this boosted morale. By the start of the fourth fight, two more left before the following round that, presumably, would feature the winners of the first six, the lieutenant had seen enough. This had to stop.

“Halt!” he called over the cheering crowd. A head turned, but no one stopped. He pushed through the onlookers to the culprit himself, SV1632. “Why are you encouraging this?” He asked incredulously. He knew the answer, and SV knew he did because he smiled down at him like a cat with the cream. Armitage scowled. In the thick of it, now, surely they would listen. Could they justify disobeying a direct order?  _ Probably _ , he thought, but AR didn't dwell on it. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he took the deepest breath he could. 

“ _ Halt! _ ” he shouted, and it took a moment, but the unit started to respond. SV just watched, bemused. Armitage decided then and there that he hated that look more than paperwork.

The boys in the middle were still wrestling, weapons cast aside, when they noticed that everyone else had gone silent, their eyes on him. The crowd cleared for the lieutenant and he stepped through, glowering down at the last to obey. “Get up,” he sneered. When they didn't move, eyes flicking uncertainly between their ring leader and their superior officer, he'd had enough of that, too. Armitage broke them apart, hauling one of them off and pushing him aside. He was a shorter boy, mousy and freckled, but stocky, and Armitage would be the last to admit that lifting him had been somewhat difficult. The freckled boy stared at him dumbstruck; he looked to SV1632 for instruction, who simply smiled to himself with his arms folded over his chest and watched. Armitage definitely hated him.

The last one lie at his feet, apparently terrified. AR thought that appropriate; he'd been told he looked like hell when he was angry. Chest heaving and eyes livid, he took a breath. It simmered to a cool anger, one that clenched his jaw tight and slid his expression into an impassive stare. The soldier made a move to scamper away.

AR0046 put a heavy boot on his chest and crouched down, leaning his weight over him and enjoying his sudden shortness of breath.

“What is your serial number, soldier?” Armitage asked in a patient tone. The boy looked to SV before he complied, and AR put a little force on his chest that knocked the wind out of him. He had his attention again.

“DN4791...sir.”

He planned to remember that.

“Excuse me, DN4791, but I believe I gave you and your friend there an order, did I not?”

“You did-” And Armitage was up again, the act of pushing off from his body enough for the boy to roll over in pain.

“You will speak when spoken to and no other time, do you understand me?” DN clearly didn't, because he started to answer. Armitage lent him a sharp kick to the side and he went quiet.

“Do you understand me?” He asked again slowly. The boy nodded, facing away. Armitage stepped over him and took his jaw in his hand. DN4791 had a bit of a baby face, all soft skin and big eyes. 

“Answer me. Tell me you understand.” His voice was low, but the silence on the training dock was thick and everyone heard, Armitage was sure. He waited.

“I understand,” the answer came, meek and quiet. It was funny, really. If he wanted to, he could have probably clobbered Armitage half to death, but here he was.

“Again, I can't hear you.” The lieutenant dug his nails into that soft skin and the boy winced.

“Yes, sir, I understand,” he repeated, louder.

AR released him roughly and smacked him for good measure, the sound ringing in the ears of all present. “Get up. I won't tell you again.”

It was safe to assume he scampered to obey.

The lieutenant stood and turned to SV1632, particularly irate.

Ben looked at him evenly. While the bemusement was gone, a calm indifference lingered.  _ What now? _ he thought.  _ You've got everyone's attention, pretty boy, what now? _

Armitage growled at him. “We are not doing this again.”

He saw clearly now that spending so much time trifling with SV1632 this morning was a mistake. He should have taken control over the training himself, enforced his word and proved himself capable of directing them. It would have been easier, then, without another leader to look to. If they had no choice, they'd have followed him without a thought, but no. SV was there giving them  _ permission  _ to do what they were told. Permission to obey the lieutenant! It was ridiculous!

He scanned the huddle of stock still soldiers, a gaggle of mismatch teenagers, really, pushed into early puberty with steroids and trained in mindless brutality. It was sad.

“Line up,” he ordered finally. SV raised an eyebrow at him, just a twitch. Armitage was hyperaware of his every move, and in a split decision, he took his arm just as he began to step toward the line. “You, behind me,” he murmured, and to his muted surprise, the source of all his problems just- did as he was told. Armitage could feel the smugness rolling off of him in waves, and suddenly, it felt as though he had lost their first game of chess.

 

\---------

 

In the end, training that day consisted of lecture and drills.

SV only obeyed him in the basest sense of the word, gently correcting this or that so the alterations were small enough to get on his nerves, intentionally mishearing orders, and making himself so oppressively, subtly obnoxious that he may as well have been leading the ginger on a leash. It was a charade. It was all just the  _ Son of Vader _ (what an idiotic pseudonym) playing along, as though it was him that was the superior officer and he was letting AR pretend at “Lieutenant for a Day”. 

He was going to kill him.

Armitage thought back to the cabin, to how different that had been. He had won there, surely- he had all but dragged him to the training dock, snarling and foaming at the mouth like an animal waiting for a chance to tear out his throat. It was both disturbing and thrilling to have something like that under his command. In the cabin, it was he with the upper hand, he with the cards and surprises. He'd seen alarm in those dark eyes; he'd seen fear, and there wasn't a feeling in the world like having a dangerous thing fear you.

The field was SV1632’s comfort zone, that was more than clear. He had blossomed in battle, all of that stiff uncertainty giving way to an unquestionable confidence and ease- AR would even go as far to call him graceful in the arena. There was no doubt in his mind; SV1632 thrived around the others. With them, he was secure in his position. He had backup and support. The members of the S5 unit didn't just fear SV, they were loyal to him. He supposed there was nothing wrong with that, so long as he could convince SV to be loyal to  _ him _ \- as if that would happen sometime this millenia. It was clear that Armitage had to get him alone.

Pseudo-command was lovely, but he needed more than that if he was ever going to make any difference in the way the dock operated. SV didn't respect him. Hux wouldn't have been surprised to find out he was sharpening his claws for a mutiny, not that he needed to. He knew in his heart that if SV ever did come against him for real, he would lose. He was certain that was what came of S5’s previous lieutenant. Deeming him unfit, they threw him overboard, or they killed him in a tournament gone awry and covered it up. Maybe SV had orchestrated his foul play alone and the rest turned a blind eye. That would be him if he didn't get this under control, he knew it would be.

As AR stared at his dinner (a salad and water, what looked like some kind of meat on toast), he couldn't bring himself to touch any of it. He was too busy wracking his brain to find a way to undermine, of all people, his inferior officer.

As Lieutenant, AR0046 had his own room. Considering he who so loudly ruled the roost, he was surprised SV hadn't taken it for himself. Why did he still board with the others? Force knew he had time enough to move, and he'd seen his pitiful living space earlier. His bunk was unmade and bedclothes rumpled, with uniform pieces and books filled with loose papers between their pages strewn about, cluttered and unseemly. It wouldn't have been a difficult transition.

In the Lieutenant’s cabin, there was a single bed and a private bathroom, a small bookcase, a little closet. It was leagues more comfortable that the communal housing was, surely, and it wasn't as though anyone would stop him. So why?

Armitage sat at the foot of his bed, picking anxiously at the smooth gray cover as he considered the question. He supposed he could ask. He may not get SV alone easily on his own territory, he'd be more careful now to avoid a repeat of this morning, but Armitage had the authority to order him to his own. He allowed himself a smile. Force, he loved being in charge.

 

\---------

 

Ben and the usual suspects were sitting in the center of the cabin, cards out and whiskey split in small doses amongst the thirteen of them. Ben himself didn't drink- he had to be the responsible one out of the lot, and frankly, he didn't much trust himself drunk. He could barely keep his head sober, and the smell reminded him uncomfortably of his fa-

“--Yeah, chief, what was that about?”

Ben snapped his attention to who was speaking to him. TR3535. It took him a moment, but he quickly gathered what they had all been discussing without him. Their new boss. Ben snickered, but didn't smile.

“Which part?”

Watching AR0046 march into the middle of what was essentially a watered down gladiator fight was unexpectedly amusing. Ben thought he'd get himself killed, and wouldn't that make his life easier? It was with surprise, however, that he watched his men look to him for orders before doing anything. It felt good to know that no matter who came in where, it was him they relied on and trusted. From there, AR asserting his dominance and whatnot was a cakewalk. Really, all he'd managed to say was that he wasn't to be pushed around, and Ben supposed that he wouldn't be- so long as Ben kept it that way. It was true that DN was a little shaken, poor kid, but as soon as training and chores were over for the day, he caught up to Ben and told him he wasn't scared. Ben had put a hand on his shoulder and said something, he didn't remember, but he knew he was pleased. 

“Today was a trial run. Soon enough he'll tire of us and he'll quit or something. His Majesty is nothing to be scared of,” Ben said easily, discarding his hand and rising to his feet. The circle of those playing, about five, let out jeers while the rest offered general protests.

“The night's barely started!”

“Come on, boss, the round’s almost over!”

“You're not gonna confiscate the booze, are you?”

Ben waved his hand dismissively and climbed into bed, picking up a book on engineering he'd found, written by an X-wing pilot from the old days. “I'm tucking in soon. You can all have your fun, just don't expect any sympathy from me tomorrow.”

The complaints died down and soon, the laughter started up again. It was true, S5 wasn't like other sectors, or even like the other outfits in their division, but it worked for him.

“Requested entry,” drolled the automated door. Silence fell over the cabin. It came again, quietly. “Requested entry: denied?”

Ben frowned, but responded nonetheless. “Request accepted.”

“Request accepted,” repeated the door in its off-world lit. The  _ schzzz _ of the automated lock opening and the turn of the knob, manual and barbaric, but affordable, had Ben still as stone. He sat at the edge of his bed, book in hand as his fellow soldiers were haphazardly scattered with definite contraband in plain sight.

AR0046 stood in the doorway. All of S5 stared back.

“SV1632,” he said slowly, eyes taking in the scene before him. It would be damning if the lieutenant had any power here. He didn't. The tension was thick in the air.  _ It's us or you _ , said the eyes of every soldier, silently daring him to enter. AR0046 did not.

“If you would join me in Cabin 1, please,” he said, tone carefully blank. The lot looked poised to strike. It was like facing a den of snakes wherein every single one had a personal vendetta against his specific person. Armitage didn't see what it was, but something SV1632 did made them sheath their claws, and suddenly, he could breathe again.

Ben stood and closed his book. He set it aside and donned a raincoat, identical to the one Armitage must have found in his First Order issued wardrobe tucked away in the main building with the district registry. He'd shown up in the old lieutenant’s clothes before, and part of Ben wished he'd kept them.

They stepped out together into the pouring rain and the door shut behind them. SV1632 looked at him. AR0046 looked back.

“Why didn't you override the code?” Ben asked firmly, as though he deserved an answer. “Why didn't you just open the door and come in?”

Armitage tread carefully.

“I believe we got off on the wrong foot, SV1632.” Stars, what was he saying? Armitage shook his head and started walking. “Come, let's get out of this awful weather.”

 

The atmosphere was odd between them. Neither of them seemed to have sure footing in Cabin 1, for the first time in the whole day standing on equal ground. It was uncomfortable for both of them, each respectively regretting their decision for one reason or another. They didn't talk about what SV had allowed, what AR saw in the housing unit. In fact, they didn't talk at all; instead, they looked at one another on opposite ends of the room.

This was not how Armitage thought this would go.

He should have sent a droid or something, anything other than going over himself. If he'd just summoned him, he would have come uncertain and worried and on guard. Armitage would be in control. He would have the upper hand and all of this would be different, so different, and he wouldn't feel like jumping out of his skin every time SV made the slightest move, took a breath that was deeper than the one before,  _ blinked _ .

“How can I help you, Lieutenant?” Ben asked gruffly, leaning over himself in the chair across from the bed, his forearms resting on his knees in a comfortable, albeit aggressive position. Why was he the one who had to feel so flighty?

Armitage licked his teeth, his right leg crossed over his left and bouncing at the pace of his heart: steady and anxious. He frowned, thoroughly displeased with everything about this. It seemed stupid now.

“I want to know why you didn't take this room.”

He forced himself to hold still.

Ben furrowed his brow. “Why would I take a room that didn't belong to me?”

“Why would you take a position that didn't belong to you?” It was immediate. The words were sharp and harsh, harsher than he'd intended, and Ben’s dark eyes clouded over.

“So that's what this is about,” he mused lowly. Armitage hated him for his voice, another attribute to add to the list.

“Of course. You were  _ acting _ lieutenant, after all, and clearly felt entitled to everything else, so why not?”

_ Why didn't you stop me today? Why did you stay behind me? Why did you listen, even if you were playing around? _

Ben snorted and stood, starting for the door. “I don't have to answer to this.”

He was on him in a flash of Kamino lightning, suddenly mere centimeters away. If he didn't know any better, he would have thought his second had stopped breathing for a moment.

“Yes, you do.”

“Yeah?” Ben turned to face him again, challenging. Their eyes were locked, unreadable and guarded to shut out everything between them, too much between them. Armitage didn't know what it was and he was starting to feel sick with it.

The silence lay heavy between them, the roar of the storm outside battering against the cabin with particular fervor. A clap of thunder boomed and shook the window panes, the room suddenly hit with a shock of blue-white light. When the sound rolled again into silence, it was much less weighted. It felt as though they had missed something, an opportunity lost with the moment.

They both took a breath, inexplicably shaken.

“Thank you for leaving me the cabin,” the lieutenant said quietly. It felt overwhelming to maintain the eye contact, so he looked away. He was allowed to end it, whatever it was. It was within his right.

Ben's chest seized with panic, hit with a sudden, violent need to stop him, but he had already turned away and closed what had been opened between them. The Force had hummed like deafening music, its beat shuddering through every cell and atom. He had never felt it quite like that. A person could trigger it, when he thought of someone who had hurt him, someone he hated, but he had never felt such a distinct  _ something _ before, something that wasn't anger or fear or hate. That power was different, unlike any other source he had drawn from before. Had he felt it? Did he know?

Force users were unheard of here. In his first year, he had made some mistakes and been very liberal with his abilities, but since then he'd let them lie quiet. The Supreme Leader wanted him to learn to be patient as he proved himself worthy of his apprenticeship. He was only to use the Force when training alone, a privilege he took advantage of rarely since taking over his unit.

Ben didn't know what to make of it. Even as he'd nodded and taken his leave, trekked through the rain, and eventually gotten into his own bed, the image wouldn't leave his mind. AR0046, his skin pale with the lightning flashing over his face, that  _ something _ bright in his eyes as he dared him to respond, retaliate, anything. He would have let him. Ben could have done anything in that moment.

He could have done anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> working title is the G-Force.  
> you know, for the gay


	3. False Prophets, False Gods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phasma is sneaky, Hux is participating in illegal activity, and Kylo is very concerned.  
> A bond is forged; a light bursts in the darkness.
> 
> ie. the one where the kids get a day off and make some problems for themselves, also the one where funky space magic happens and everything is upsetting

Hux.

Armitage Hux, that sounded good; strong. He wondered about claiming his father's name, if that was allowed. It was an unusual agreement they had, but not one unheard of. Many high ranking officials enrolled their children in the Academy, though he couldn't say who, as it all was very covert. What was unusual about it was that he knew so early and directly from the source. His father wrote him.

From the letters he'd been receiving once every few months since he was small, no matter how infrequent, Armitage knew who he was. He recognized his father's penmanship, knew his name, and from there, he had read and studied any holofeed he could find on the family he had somewhere among the stars- the family that wanted him, provided he wasn't a complete failure. In his youth, he had dreamed of earning back his given name and reuniting with his parents, someday achieving Admiral and making his father proud. Now, he knew better.

Pipedreams like that were childish. There was no future with any family for him; he had never known one, and making one of his own sounded like a poor investment. At sixteen, he had it all figured out: after he did away with his stupid serial number, he would claim his birth name- not for sentiment, but for notoriety. General Brendol Hux intended to use him for his own means and, if Armitage wasn't a complete idiot, the glorifying of the family legacy. It was obvious, really. The letters hadn't come until he'd established himself high in his early classes and made a promising start to a career in politics. It made sense. If he knew himself at all, he knew he'd do anything to clamor over his peers and grind them underfoot; assuming this General was the same, he was just another opportunity to get a step ahead, a means to flaunt the old man's triumph postmortem. Even he had to admit that was pathetic, but he could see the appeal in such pettiness. He loved getting what he wanted, recognition, privilege, prestige. Those he broke down on his way were collateral damage, means to an end, et cetera. Discouraging and ultimately destroying the careers of his fellow soldiers was hardly a desperation; he just didn't have the empathy to spare them on his climb up the ladder. As far as he knew, this “Hux” may not even be his actual father. It was likely, even, that he was just a cunning man willing to manipulate a child to his own ends. Armitage could come to respect a man like that.

Admiral Armitage Hux. Yes, he rather liked it.

Now, SV1632. He was a curious one, a person he'd heard glorified to the point of legend. He hadn't decided if he had lived up to the hype yet. After everything he had learned vicariously, and after seeing it in the flesh, he found himself equally entranced and disgusted. SV was sloppy, that was clear in everything about him from his beak of a nose down to his hunched, heaving walk. It was more of a trudge, if Hux was honest. His hair was dark and wavy and breaking all kinds of regulations on its own. It was long by Academy standards, long enough to cover his ears and brush his brow. Any of these things would normally be enough for him to want to strangle a person, and yet he couldn't help but want to know just what made the Son of Vader tick. The nickname was fanciful at best and horribly conceited at worst, and he wondered if SV had come up with it himself. Some said he was from the outer colonies, others from the New Republic’s military school across the galaxy, and yet more insisted that he was some higher-up’s privileged son, someone who had joined late and learned fast. The quietest of them swore behind covered hands he must be a Resistance spy, perhaps even a prisoner of war or an informant granted asylum. Everyone agreed, however, that SV1632, whoever he was, was not from here. People said he was strong, that he could mow down a fleet with his space powers. They said he had nearly killed classmates in his first year here, that he was prone to uncontrollable bouts of rage and bloodlust that came on seemingly unprompted. They said in sectors he had long since left that he cried in his sleep, that he called out names people recognized but didn't dare believe.

For all that Armitage decidedly hated him for (his voice, his smile, his height, his penchant for insubordination), there were parts of him he thought he could like. Acknowledge as not terrible, at the very least.

SV1632 was unexpectedly intelligent. After that first tumultuous, very confusing day, Hux had decided that SV1632 was nothing but a jarheaded block of meat and testosterone bent on his undoing. However as the days went on, and then the weeks, he'd come to see strategy in the drills he'd designed- because he had designed drills, just not that way Armitage was used to or felt comfortable with. His unorthodox methods may have been barbaric and completely inappropriate, but they held purpose.

SV1632 read books. He was quiet and kept to himself outside of combat training, often leaving for the library or the flight line or the very edge of the dock where he'd stare blankly into the dark sea. More often than he had expected, he found himself directing activities and administering orders, something he had been under the impression that the beast of a boy hadn't wanted to give up.

As Hux watched, he found that his second in command ate alone, despite how close his personal relationships had seemed at first. He cared deeply for his brothers in arms, and though Hux couldn't say he'd seen such affection firsthand, the displays of devotion from his unit was telling. He was liked, another thing to add to the list.

Armitage told himself that for everything that SV put him through, it was completely natural that he pay attention to him. It was reasonable attention. Necessary, even, if he ever wanted to work with him instead of against him or despite him (not that he wanted that). It would be easier, though, would it not? It would be easier if he didn't have to constantly correct his work or babysit his tasks. It would be easier if he knew SV would back him up and enforce his word like he was supposed to instead of half doing it or intentionally sabotaging it. It would be easier if he didn't have to worry about doing the same back to him.

He deleted the letter from his holopad. He could never send such personal information to his supposed parents. General, informative matters were all that were necessary here, like a report. As Hux began writing from the first line, he decidedly left out just how difficult his second had been. The General had power and could remove SV1632 if he saw fit, and would do so without asking his son's opinion on the matter. They had a business relationship. There would be no heart to heart chats.

He signed the letter “AR0046” and sent it before falling back on his bed with a loud sigh. No one was around to hear it. Try as he might, Armitage couldn't get that night out of his mind. He dreamt about it, and sometimes he didn't, but the other dreams were strange and familiar. That _something_ was there as a pressure on his chest, a roar in his ears and a blinding light like the storm. He would wake in silence, and sometimes, he could still taste the electricity in the air. The nights SV was there in his dreams made him queasy in ways he wanted to fall into and simultaneously get away from. It was a gnawing, unbearable anticipation as if something were to happen, something important that was never fulfilled. SV would look at him with those brown eyes and that long hair and his stupid nose and he'd look into him, through him, like he knew everything Armitage had ever tried to lie about. He hated that he could see into him, too- into all the raw hurt and loss and despair. He hated that part most of all.

On such nights, he'd wake wanting something he didn't understand, feeling incomplete and cheated and inexplicably angry. If felt as though SV had taken a piece of him he didn't give and left what had been offered. Those dreams were always the worst.

He couldn't decide if they were bad enough for the list.

 

Ben was in the very back of the military library. It was the only library they had, though he was sure there were informational stashes just waiting to be uncovered in some district across base. It was a personal day, the only one they had every 14 cycles, and he was spending it in the library. He could hardly believe himself sometimes, that these things would happen to him, of all the sentient lifeforms in the universe.

Ben pulled a book from the shelf, a volume of an impossibly high number. He would probably have to go further back in the histories to find what he was looking for, but he had to start somewhere. _Sith Lords and the Origins of the Empire: Journal 16, Volume 45x_. The numbers following were rubbed out with age and use. It could be the 45th volume or the 400th, there was no telling. He hoped they had the collection, at least.

Ben didn't dare search the holonet; anyone could track him there just by typing his serial number, and he wasn't sure about anything yet- especially how his master would react if what he suspected was true. Something like this was old, though, and rare. He had never heard That Man speak of it more than once, and with a terrible grief in his tone he'd failed to mask.

“ _A bond is not something chosen, nor received. It is given, and once given, is had.”_

At the time, he had dismissed it as convoluted nonsense his uncle had come up with on a weird incense trip he took meditating. He had thought about it little, had only considered who or what it could have been that That Man hated being tied to so much. He had wondered what he despised so deeply that he let it creep into his oh so careful voice- the one he used to lie and patronize.

Straining to remember now, though, Ben processed the wording carefully. It was given but not received. What could be given but not received? It was either had or not, and he clearly said it was had, so it _must_ have been received- what was so terrible about a bond?

Was it to someone he hated? Someone he loved? Ben scoffed louder than he meant to. He couldn't imagine That Man loving anyone more than himself, much less loving anyone enough that it pained him to speak about it. He tucked away the nagging feeling that in reality, That Man had loved very much. He refused to remember the only one That Man hadn't loved was him.

Gifts were given. A bond was gift, then, yes? People received gifts, rejected them- he hadn't been given a gift since he was very small. If he recalled, it was a rather illegal speeder he helped build when he was nine. It was one of the very few positive memories he had with his fa-

He couldn't think it. That life was over. Even  good memories were ruined now, as few and far between as they were.

_Everyone knows what you really are._

Ben flipped through his small collection of books, scrolls, and journals. It was mostly war history (surprise, surprise) with some mentions of the Force, space magic, and energy fields sprinkled in. It made sense these historians wouldn't have taken much care in describing the nature of what made up everything in the universe and gave it life. That was reserved for philosophy and science fiction, neither fields which the Academy had particular care for.

After a few hours of tedious combing through book after book, he came across a passage on a formidable Jedi and their apprentice that gave the early Sith trouble. It was a journal entry by an officer otherwise unimportant, written sometime before the Galactic Wars:

_“...were one in spirit and might, and seemed to draw upon one another’s energy for strength. They were stronger together than apart. Our orders were to separate them at any cost.”_

He looked ahead and for any further mention. The battle had gone on for many days, this unnamed Jedi and their Padawan alone against an army. Through the graphic descriptions of bloodshed and mourning the fallen, he read:

_“...has been secured. The apprentice had fallen. Though the Jedi was occupied and had no way of knowing, the effect was immediate. Without her presence in the connection our leader spoke of, her master was distracted and clumsy, ultimately powerless against us. She was so stricken with grief that killing her was more a mercy than an act of revenge. In the end, the Jedi was struck down by a foot-soldier. She did not fight back.”_

Ben turned the page:

_“There will be little celebration tonight.”_

It occurred to Ben that it could have been loss that made That Man so resigned on the topic. He sounded as though it was from experience. Was it a bond broken? A bond unfulfilled? A bond was had, he said. It was had whether it was wanted or not.

_A gift cannot be received if it cannot be rejected. A bond is not chosen; acceptance or denial is irrelevant._

The thought came like a whisper, as though He had spoken directly into his ear, or through the Force and into his mind, as That Man was wont to do whether Ben liked it or not. He'd always hated when That Man spied in his head. He seemed to think Ben couldn't tell, couldn't see him and feel him prodding in there like a child would poke a frog with a sharp stick.

Regardless of the origins of the thought (he would not consider the possibility that Those People could spy on him here after so long, that they violated him even now), he decided to accept it. It made sense.

In other journals from the same battle, he had found a more detailed summary of what the Sith had said about the bond, why the pair needed to be separated physically as well as spiritually. From what Ben could piece together, without one half of the connection, a Force user wasn't just wounded or sad or incapacitated. They were powerless; _literally powerless_ . Whether by their own will or something broken in their head, they were cut off from the Force. It just stopped. Killing a Jedi without the use of the Force was just like killing any mortal man, it was easy, yes, but _how?_ A chill went down his spine. If this thing between himself and the lieutenant was what he thought it was, he could potentially be cut off from the Force forever, assuming the separation was involuntary. The bond wasn't chosen, so why would breaking it be?

He stared at the report. It didn't explain how or why or if it was reversible, and after reading every journal from every soldier and every study by every historian that had covered the event, only one thing was concrete consistent: _the Jedi master was so stricken with grief that killing her was more a mercy than an act of revenge. Her wails of anguish rang deafening in the ears of those present for days._

Ben closed the last book, one line repeating over and over in his old master's sad, distant voice:

_What haunts me even now is the silence that came afterward._

 

\---------

 

Since that night almost two weeks ago, Hux hadn't spent the slightest amount of personal time with SV1632. Instead, he watched him and dreamed about him and talked to him as little as possible. The matter was really getting out of hand.

S17, a sector within the same district, was run by a Lieutenant PH4534, one of Hux's most trusted confidant and greatest rival, although that last title may now belong to someone else. She was the closest thing he had to a friend, if that was the right way to describe their relationship. They'd been in the same unit as small children and had conspired together on the best ways to eliminate competition and get the most snacks. A cohort may be a better term than friend- a partner, maybe. Someone who, when mutually favorable, could be counted on and who, when inconvenient, would leave him in the dust and he the same to her. It was nice knowing who to trust and when. He never had to worry about PH4534 betraying him because he never trusted her with anything she could use against him- at least not without some kind of insurance.

He had spent the final leg of the afternoon with her, detailing as much as he could without incriminating himself.

“I see,” PH4534 hummed thoughtfully after Hux related his plight to her. She had a faraway look in her eye that had him frowning.

“What?”

“You know they call him the Son of Vader?”

“Not you too!”

She snorted a laugh and shushed him. After looking around in an uncharacteristically furtive manner, she spoke quietly to him across the rec-room table.

“That doesn't come from nothing,” the blonde cautioned. Armitage just looked at her.

“Stop being so cryptic,” he said flatly. “If you know something, tell me. Otherwise, you're wasting my time.”

She rolled her eyes. Hux couldn't tell if it was fond or not.

“Have you looked at his file in the database?”

He jolted, shocked. “No!” A moment later, it was him looking about, making sure no one had heard. Much quieter, he asked, “...Have you?”

 

PH4534 had given him an access code. It could be the real thing, or it could be a trap to send him into career-level disaster- there was no telling with her. Armitage hoped she hadn't served her own interests, just this once. To pay him, of sorts, for his own disclosure, PH4534 had told him some useful information about herself (although this seemed to be news she was glad to share). She was being promoted. Not only promoted, but she was jumping rank into an entirely different division. Stormtroopers. Sixteen, and she would be over hundreds of soldiers. In a few years, maybe thousands. By the end of the season, she'd have a name.

He hadn't bothered asking what she'd chosen. The most obvious was Phasma- PH4534. She loved code breaking and covert snooping, and such a name would probably make her feel clever. He hadn't told her of his own choice yet. By the time it became relevant, she'd be long gone.

He couldn't believe she was getting promoted over him. --Well, he could. Her record was spotless, though he thought it probably shouldn't be, knowing everything she had done to get where she was. He was in the same boat as an accomplice and an enemy. He'd done as much to harm her as help her, and he supposed he still would, if she would even need him anymore. He somehow seriously doubted it.

At the end of the season, they'll be in different worlds.

It probably had to do with his transfer. There were no marks, but a sudden move from one sector to another looked strange whether by promotion or not. Lieutenant was a new rank for him, but to be moved across base from engineering and weapons control to combat and strategy, of all things, was a big shift. If he was promoted in the next year or two, he would have no idea where they'd put him: in the position he craved within a field he was passionate about, or one that landed him nowhere within a district he fumbled through. His father (“father”; Force, he hated him) had taken him out of engineering just as he'd started to draw up his first drafts and brainstorming notebooks for a ship of his own design. It would house a megaweapon like nothing before- a vaporizer, maybe, or a type of bomb whose contents reacted in chemical combustion with the atmosphere of planetary targets. The name _Death Star_ would be erased from the record as a failure, practically forgotten. In its place, the greatest ship of the Order would be _Starkiller_ and he would command it. Armitage Hux would be the greatest military leader in the galaxy.

How in Hoth was the combat division going to get him _there_?

Armitage entered the library.

It was best to tap in from a public network, in case the access code really was faulty or bugged or incredibly illegal- more illegal than accessing the private, confidential files of those affiliated with the most powerful government in the galaxy, that is. He waited by a bookshelf, pretending to read while he watched for a poor sap to leave their information logged in. He didn't wait long.

It was an RF5896 he had never heard of. For their sake, he hoped it wasn't some corrupted-something that would delete all their information or report them to the authorities, though he was certain a security breach of this caliber would be tracked and punished somehow. For good measure, in case he needed to justify his presence in the library later, he logged into his own holopad and played a muted newscast. The time signature would be his alibi.

As it turned out, the access code was legitimate. He didn't want to know how Phasma had gotten it or why she'd been digging through SV’s file, of all people, but here it was right in front of him.

And it was empty.

 

\---------

 

Ben knocked over a bookshelf. He hadn't meant to, he'd just been wracking his brain over how seriously he could take the word of a crazy hermit and a bunch of psy-null starving people 400 years dead, and just like that, it was on the ground. Things tended to break when he got upset. He was surprised it was only one shelf, granted, it had been a large one. It was far enough away that he couldn't be blamed for it, at least. Mutedly, he hoped no one was under it.

Ben got a little nauseous. Past the fallen bookshelf were the public holopads, and right there in his immediate field of vision was the one person he wanted to see least. What were the odds that these kinds of things happened to him?

Ben couldn't help but notice, amongst the flurry of people scrambling to erect the bookshelf, that AR0046 looked distraught. He didn't normally look that way, not that Ben paid particular attention ever. His brow was furrowed tightly and his teeth were grinding in concentration. It was a different look compared to what he'd come to recognize as trepidation, uncertainty, irritation, anger, or reluctance, though whatever he was feeling was certainly negative. That was nothing new. Avoiding the good souls cleaning his mess, Ben crossed the library to the technical section. AR0046 didn't seem to notice him. Curious, Ben looped around and leaned over the back of his chair. He'd realized his mistake when he noticed he was close enough to feel the heat of his skin, nearly cheek to cheek. If he looked, he would be able to count those eyelashes again if he wanted, or in the light, see if all redheads really did have freckles. Ben had only gotten half a glance of the screen before his superior went tense and the screen went black and AR0046 had turned around and he was _right there_ -

Hux punched him in the face. Ben hadn't known he was left handed.

Both of them had jumped back, though for different reasons, Hux catching his breath from the anxiety and Ben holding his face from the pain.

“What are you doing following me?” Armitage whispered harshly, as it was the library.

“ _Me?!”_

“Shh!” came the librarian.

“Me?!” He repeated in a whisper. Ben gasped and cursed from a poor choice in muscle movement, blood oozed from between his fingers. Hux clutched his holopad to his chest, still looking like he might take off in a sprint if Ben moved the wrong way. Everyone was staring.

A moment later, the lieutenant had sprung into action. He steered his second in command out of the common area by the arm, head down in hopes no one important would recognize them. They certainly did.

Armitage practically shoved him into the nearest bathroom, an incriminating trail of blood following them inside. He locked the door as soon as he'd passed through it and pressed his forehead to the cool metal with a hollow _thunk_. He heard the water start and a sniff.

“You are an imbecile,” he stated simply. “I can't believe you thought it was a good idea to sneak up on me like that.”

“An apology would be-” It sounded as though he’d tried to blow his nose. “--appropriate, I think.”

There was more blasted sniffing and Hux was about ready to hit him again. He looked it, too, foot tapping lightly in a tell with closed eyes and a deep breath. Armitage set the holopad down and took hold of Ben’s wrists and pulled. “Let me see,” he demanded when he didn't budge. Ben considered saying he ought to ask nicely, but thought better of it and let him.

The nosebleed had let up and there was some inflammation, but nothing serious. Clinically, Hux pinched the bridge of Ben's nose with his thumb and forefinger, pressing at points all the way down.

“That hurts, you know.”

“If it were broken, you'd be screaming. You're fine.”

They were a meter apart now and the air between them, as it always seemed to be when they were alone, was more like water. Neither of them seemed to breathe easily and to cross the distance seemed impossible without some kind of bridge neither of them were willing to build.

“Why did you follow me into the library?” The lieutenant baited. It sounded childish. It was childish.

“I didn't,” his right hand replied with equal impatience. “I thought _you_ had followed _me_.”

Under another circumstance, maybe in another world, he would have laughed.

“I didn't.”

“Why was my name on your holopad?”

Hux went cold and suddenly their eyes met, lightning at their fingertips, lightning in the air.

“It wasn't.”

“It was.”

“That's not your name.”

And the ball was in Hux's court again. SV1632 had gone still as stone and Armitage suddenly felt very uninformed. His name was important. He was bluffing, he didn't know it, but the way SV was reacting was serious, it was too serious to be nothing and just as soon as he'd gotten ground, they were even again.

Hux wished he could look away, but it wasn't within his right.

 

Ben had stopped breathing.

He  _knew_. He knew? Ben couldn't be sure. He had only seen enough of the screen to catch his serial number, nothing more, but that unreadable expression had come from something he had learned. He willed the chasm to open and the sea to swallow him up, up, up so he didn't have to feel this, didn't have to fear this. Just like that very first day, it didn't come.

Ben remembered the journals and what the Force had whispered to him not an hour ago.

A bond wasn't chosen.

Separation made bondmates weak.

Severance took their power and grief drove them mad.

The thought that someone, anyone, could more than control him with such knowledge made him quake. He came here to become his own person. He was here to flush out the rebellion, to adjust, to prepare for the throne his master was surely preparing him for. He was here to leave Ben Solo behind.

He hated, then. He hated and hated and it swelled in him to bursting. There was no release and he felt the universe mocking him, the Force vibrating all around him, in him, and yet so inaccessible. It had to be a bond. He couldn't force it out of his head, and the closer he got to his lieutenant, the stronger it felt. It wasn't the restless black water he was used to, yet it felt equally boundless. This was the crackling energy that burst within storm clouds, building and building until it broke open and struck hellfire and he couldn't control it. This bond, whatever it was, contained him, and for that Ben loathed AR0046 more than he thought he could. Just then, he hated him more than Luke, more than Leia, more than Han and the Jedi and the Resistance because those things, Those People had only ever tried to control his future, tried to harness him and failed violently. He hated Those People with a guilt and grief that killed him and a sick pleasure at his escape that only reanimated the corpse of a boy long dead. This person inhabiting his body was no longer someone he recognized.

Ben hated AR0046 for succeeding where others had been slaughtered at his hand. If he killed him, he'd lose his soul, he was sure of it. The Force was everything, in everything; how could there be a world to see when the tendrils of life and death and balance were silent? How could a Jedi, a Sith, anyone who had known the secrets of it all bear the threat of losing it? How could anyone who had felt it's incredible presence in everything, found solace in the places it allowed them to go, ever go on in the deadness of the universe knowing but never tasting, touching, feeling again?

AR0046 had made this horrible nightmare a possibility. He had taken that impossible reality and shoved it in his face, one worse than his parents abandoning him, worse than the man he trusted most, loved  _most_ turning on him with murder and hate in his eyes, worse than leaving behind everything he knew and thrusting himself onto the darkest, most miserable rock in the galaxy to escape only to find he'd just imprisoned himself to another future someone else had chosen, another trail of breadcrumbs left by a master who would someday turn on him.

The implications of what this bond could do to him were more terrible than all of that, and all of those things had already come to pass. It was no wonder That Man had spoken of it with such defeat. Those bonded were practically damned.

Ben was contained. He was caged.

And there was no way out.

The anger whirled inside him like a gust of wind and just so slightly, he thought he could feel the smallest twinge of the Force responding, but just as quickly, it danced out of his reach. This was not a power he could tap into and let flow and ravage and consume him. This was entirely different.

 

SV1632 had been quiet an alarmingly long time.  To admit his bluff would cost him pride, but the way SV was looking at him could cost him much more. There was that thing between them, but instead of discomfort, Armitage felt an unsettling weightlessness, as though he were a balloon or a kite and SV was holding him planetside. It was difficult to explain as he couldn't quite grasp it himself, but there was a surging of something  _for_ his second, as though he wanted to give him something he couldn't hold or see or touch. It wasn't pity, or fear, or empathy, really, but a type of unity, almost, to tell him he wasn't alone, to let him in and allow him to see all the things under normal circumstances he felt so strongly ought to stay buried.

That was not a welcome feeling.

SV was feeling so much, he could almost see it, anger coiling around his neck and holding him captive. He seemed comfortable with it there, as though it were a scarf, or a parasite that had been there so long it had become apart of him.

Armitage could taste the lightning on his tongue, sharp and crisp and pain, but a good kind as though he'd touched his lips to a battery and the warmth was still passing through him. That feeling in his chest, the giving he hadn't consented to, wanted to unravel that scarf and see the bruises it was hiding. More than cast it away, it wanted to share it, wrap the darkness around them both and breathe again, together.

He couldn't understand it, but he had a nagging feeling that SV1632 would.

The spark was hot in his mouth. “What is this?”

He felt the crackle of suspicion from him more than saw it. SV didn't want to tell him, but he knew. He  _knew_.

“SV1632, I know it isn't just me. I can see it, I can see you, so just come out with it.” Armitage spoke with more conviction than he felt, putting on his usual “superior officer” voice as though pretending at that ruse of a dynamic would make this less of what it seemed to be. SV stared at him, through him. He wore the same look he had the morning Hux had seen him at the window, the look he wore as he stood at the very edge of the dock in the rain, tempting gravity to pull him off the ledge and let Kamino take him. It astounded Hux, then, how a single look could be so empty and yet carry so much.

The weightless feeling made his step light, and he came forward as if pushed unexpectedly. It really had felt that way- as though there was something else at play here, something else at work that was pulling at the strings independent of either of them.

 _What is your name?_ came the whisper of someone, somewhere. It was more a feeling than a sound, an urge to know. Armitage had never felt a question before.

_Who are you?_

SV was looking at him, into him, and the faraway look was fading.

_What is your name?_

It was there, Armitage could taste it, feel it in the palms of his hands and echoed in the beating of his heart, just out of reach. He had forgotten how to breathe, a sharp inhale piercing the loudest silence he had ever experienced. SV’s hand was warm against his. He hadn't meant to. He didn't realize he was reaching for him literally, that he had sought to touch him on some unseen level and did so using this one, the only one he knew. Hux's nimble fingers pressed to his, and suddenly, a door opened and revealed  _everything_.

There he was feeling safe and loved and then cold and alone and then hurt and then angry and then, and then, and then. Armitage saw himself falling into it, felt this overwhelming pressure close over his head and cloud his eyes and fill his mouth to choke him, to drown him, and it  _hurt_. It hurt, and yet there was so much power here, so much adrenaline and passion and urgency and-

_Stop hiding from me._

Armitage was gasping. It had happened so fast, and yet had seemed to last years, to last his whole life. His throat was raw with it; he still couldn't see.

_I can help you._

It wasn't the same as before, but it the pressure of the darkness, the ocean, still beat against his mind. It had never been there before quite like that, never so loud and real and alive. The room was spinning and didn't exist and he wasn't in his body, yet he was so trapped, and he was crashing, crashing, burning, gone.

Nothing like this could possibly last. Armitage felt near dying.

 _What is your name?_ came the question, but now that he'd felt, that he'd seen, it was no longer a whisper. It was a roar, a typhoon of feeling, a demand.

_Who are you?_

And then SV was there and he was holding him and Armitage was shaking and he couldn't feel his toes and his eyes were wide and staring at nothing, so much nothing it was devastating.

“What is this?” a small voice asked. It was him, but would have no way of knowing. There was too much everything to care. With effort, Hux focused just enough to make out his face and find those brown eyes, suddenly clear of the storms they held before.

Ben’s hands were in his hair and on his face and holding him tight, tight enough to ache all over, to ache inside. His words, quiet as they were, sounded like  _loss_ and  _sorry_ and glass shattering and world ending.

“I don't know.”

 

\---------

 

The Solo boy was a flower. He was delicate, with weak, malleable roots that soaked up whatever they were given. So far, he had been easy to manipulate. As the boy had gotten older, he'd grown more brooding, quiet, and impossibly more aggressive. Everything seemed to be going slowly but steadily on track. Snoke had turned his eye from his progress momentarily to focus on more pressing matters of military, politics, and war. He planned to live long; his successor could wait.

In his peripheral vision, he saw a light burst in the distance and turned towards it sharply. What was this disturbance? His mind searched for it, reaching and scouring with tendrils and claws and teeth. If Solo was an ocean, Snoke was a monster, and the darkness clamored across the galaxy in search of that infernal beam.

He had seen such a burst of light energy in Solo years ago, and with some effort, had snuffed it out and turned his power to his own ends. Snoke’s wide, peeled eyes cast his vision unblinking outwards, reaching for the farthest part of the galaxy. There was nothing.

He turned his eye, alarmed, to the apprentice he'd so confidently left unattended.

_Who are you?_

Resistance. He clawed at it, tried vainly to sink his teeth into this newborn power. It was here, he could see it throbbing with a heartbeat and lifeblood, it was right under his nose and yet evaded him.

_What is your name?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ben, sweetie, you're at a 10 and we need you closer to a 3, please stop


	4. Gnashing of Teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phasma makes a deal.
> 
> ie. the one where it's basically the hux-phasma show until a certain redhead gets a clue about maybe-feelings regarding his junior lieutenant

AR0046 had been in his room on sick leave for two days.

Ben had never heard of a force shield that transferred energy. He didn't know a person could do that, could channel feeling from someone into themselves. The moment they touched, his lieutenant had gone completely tense, slack-jawed and staring and suddenly, Ben had been able to breathe again. The watery depths were gone. The tapping, knocking, banging darkness had stopped it's assault on his mind for the first time in years, and he had felt such a lightness that it didn't feel real. AR, on the other hand, had gone sightless and deaf and boneless, seizing with it, and if he hadn't came back gasping for air, Ben would have taken him to the med-bay. He had looked at Ben and asked with wide, honest, burdened eyes full of _his_ pain and Ben had lied.

It was only fair, he justified. The lieutenant had clearly lied about knowing his real name- something that was very important to him. He knew that it wasn't the same at all, not even a little, but AR had locked himself in Cabin 1 and wouldn't let him in. He couldn't have gone to see him even if he had, because for the first time in weeks, he was acting lieutenant again. The job felt like more work than he remembered, and it was. That was because he was doing it AR0046’s way, according to protocol with minor variation- in other words, the right way, not that he'd admit it. The boring way felt more accurate. He did indulge S5 in after hours sparring, however, and did his best not to dwell on the bond.

While not quite as vicious as their tournaments, these skirmishes were a very near thing. AR hadn't taken well to combat exercises because he wasn't as physical as the rest. He was “civilized”, as he put it; an academic. Force knew who thought putting him here was a good idea. Practicing combat in the combat division made absolute sense; Ben would be incredibly surprised if AR0046 ever came around to it. He'd be lying, though,if he said he wasn't secretly dying to see the redhead in the arena. He would love to train him- it would loosen him up a bit, Ben thought, if he tried his hand at not hating every second he spent on the field. After the events of the other day, though, Ben may never have the chance. If he was mad enough, AR would have him transferred, just as he'd promised that first day.

He couldn't say for sure what was on the ginger’s mind. He got impressions every now and again, but never anything solid. Since AR0046 saw into his mind, the copper taste of electricity lingered in his mouth and every now and again, he felt flutters of fragmented thoughts or images or sensations waver in the vibrating energy of the Force around him. It wasn't the wide expanse of endless fields and warm sunlight of the light side, nor the gaping maw of the dark. Both of those were eternal, ageless entities that existed independent of those who drew on their power. The bond was alive and growing; he felt sure that at least in part, they were the ones sustaining it. There was no need for meditation or self-mutilation to encourage it. It was simply there, and only accessible to him. Ben wasn't sure how he felt about that.

He knew what AR felt, though, very strongly. He experienced phantom pains in his chest sometimes, more frequently than he would like. He could only assume that was the stress and anxiety his superior seemed to suffer so often. Sometimes he'd feel an unprompted wave of fatigue, or hunger that after a few seconds would pass. Mostly, though Ben felt the ghostly caresses of anger and confusion and hurt brushing his consciousness.  AR was afraid and upset and it was directed at him.

Ben felt terrible being able to sense all of that. He knew he hated when others would spy on his thoughts, check if his emotions were balanced enough, but he didn't know how to turn it off. The presence in his mind ceased to be a nagging _something_ and instead nested, took a place and made a home in one of the deepest parts of his person. It lay deeper than the burning want, deeper than the grief, and deeper than the anger he had thought could never be bypassed. He'd come to believe that anything that could pierce him that way would destroy him. This bond, however, hadn't uprooted or disturbed anything he hadn't poked raw himself already. Instead, it permeated all of it and seeped through to his very core. The black water still churned in his heart and his mind, but now, there was a glowstone at the bottom that shined through the murky depths and up to the raging surface. Now, Ben could no longer look out the window and see only darkness. Now, there was something else.

_Stronger together than apart._

 

Armitage was at a loss. He couldn't stay here, he couldn't. His whole body hummed with that warming sensation, the prickling heat that popped and crackled under the surface of his skin. In his cabin, in the dark, with the light of the storm casting flickering shadows on his walls and the low roar of the sea and the sky growling softly in his ears, Hux felt so small. He felt as though the dark would just eat him up, but he couldn't stay. He had work to do and classes to attend.

Sometimes, he felt twinges of worry that weren't his, and the butchered, bleeding grief he'd seen in SV’s mind echoed in his memory. How could he carry it all with him like that?

As he had looked and seen and been engulfed in it, Armitage had asked for his name over and over. SV1632 hadn't responded. Didn't he hear it? Couldn't he feel it? The answer was in him- it was in both of them. It was just out of reach, he could taste it like he had before. It was right there. He felt like he could just reach inside himself and pull it out, like it was hidden someplace between his liver and intestines.

Hux hadn't meant to ask, but surely, he must have. It wasn’t SV1632 who had whispered in his mind, so it had to have been his own thought. Wasn't it?

They were connected, that much was certain, and SV had looked him in the eye in one of the most vulnerable moments of his life and denied it. Wildly enough, he felt betrayed. They weren't friends, had no similar interests, and had done nothing but passively injure each other and maintain uncomfortable amounts of eye contact for two and a half weeks, and yet he felt wounded by him.

 _I don't know_ ,  he had said. Ha. Armitage had seen it already, everything in him, and SV had the nerve to deny it as though he wouldn't know instantly that it was a lie.

Armitage was all kinds of emotional as a direct result of this fiasco. He wasn't used to it. Opening a door to that much feeling all at once, then having it ripped away just as quickly had left a gaping hole. Now, his mind was an echo chamber of sensation that left him shuddering and bundled in blankets. It was overwhelming. What now? He had _felt_ , he couldn't go back to the way he was. He was changed; the world had been turned on its head. Nothing was the same.

Armitage couldn't stay here, but in his current state, he couldn't face him, either. He wasn't ready to cope with The Bathroom Incident outside his bedroom, it was too big. He couldn't get away from it. He could feel the tether pulling at him in the direction of the training dock even now, and if Hux dared look into it, if he closed his eyes and focused, he was caught in the deafening storm all over again. It was quieter from so far away, not as painful or as encompassing, but the fact he could sense SV1632 at all, feel impractical emotions or inconvenient physicalities other than his own, made him woozy. If that was what holding his hand was like, he didn't want to even think of trying anything else.

 

\-----------

 

Ben Solo. SV1632 was the son of not just any Resistance member or official, but of Leia Organa. He was MIA on record, last seen three years ago after the brutal massacre of over a hundred people- _children_ , Phasma reminded herself. The bastard murdered kids. It was no wonder his Disciplinary Academy records were so extensive, full of incidents of violence and unprofessional behavior. He was a psychopath.

He was Rebel royalty.

This kind of information ruined people.

It wasn't that Phasma had a personal grudge against SV1632 specifically, not at all, but he was coming up quick on she and Hux for competition in the future. She didn't know his goals and couldn't be trusted. He'd been jumping rank all over the place since he'd shown up, and Phasma was so close to a junior captain's position. If she made it up high enough in school, by the time she graduated, she'd be an officer when she joined the Order. From there, it was only a matter of time before she was Captain of the Stormtroopers. The promotion she spoke of was really more of an internship- as exciting as it was, they'd never let someone her age near enough to actual combat to do anything, especially not command anyone.

The Academy was a brutal place, and their methods were harsh, but they worked. Main Base was a large island, man made as everything else, where most of the general courses were: war history, planetary physics, combat 101, linguistics, math and the like. Off of the island were slightly smaller islands called districts that housed students with a particular skill. Of course, those who wanted could still attend generals courses and graduate that way, but the districts were where one went to get a guaranteed spot in the Order in the future. The Combat Specialty District had weapons training and fighting and leadership courses for people like her that would make use of them, and just offshore of the district were the docks. The docks were home to all of the students involved in that specific district, everyone living with and working with people studying the same thing. The Academy was occupied with seamless integration; the more their experience simulated what the real military base was like, the faster new recruits could be put to use. They weren't students, they were soldiers- that is, until they left school to join the army for real.

To keep with that immersive style, soldiers were split into rank according to the courses they had taken in previous years. From there, they were put into sectors together on a dock that was to operate as a real life unit in the army, each equipped with a miniature training dock and cabins that replicated those used on the real military base offworld.

Even if she knew it wasn't entirely real, Phasma got a thrill out of being the S17 Lieutenant. She was in command of twelve soldiers a few years younger than her, with one junior lieutenant, MI7424, and when they weren't participating in regular courses on the district shore, she worked them like dogs.

Their seasonal evaluation would be coming up soon and she was ready- but then there was AR0046. He was out of his element and she felt for him- it would be immeasurably convenient to work with him in the future- but he was floundering. His men didn't respect him, he had said. They only listen to his junior lieutenant, SV1632. And Phasma knew exactly who he was talking about.

SV1632 was insufferable. A year ago, they'd shared a sector for a brief four months, and it had been hell. After some choice incidents and a few days of snooping and listening through the grapevine, she felt she had enough cause to justify looking deeper for information that could help her in the future- like stealing a code, accessing his file, and learning everything the Academy had on him.

It had been a very detailed read. When she was done, she had deleted it- all of it, lest someone else find it useful in the future. Everyone knew SV1632 was the Supreme Leader’s pet; there had been too many pardons for too many infractions, especially when it was more than clear that all of their professors hated him. Knowing such incriminating information on him, someone who was surely going somewhere important in the near future, could come in handy. As it turned out, AR0046 presented a perfect opportunity to use it.

With the evaluation on the horizon, it was battle royale between she and the supposed son of Brendol Hux (AR wasn't as sneaky about that as he had thought, but she would allow him to maintain his security blanket. She always knew more than she let on). Bets were off testing time- they had to be. It was a competition. They would attend the Combat Specialty District Evaluation Center in the heart of the district and be scored on their sector's ability to perform drills, make formations, and accomplish small scale missions. Her promotion was tentative; without a perfect, outstanding score on this season's evaluation, she could lose it to someone else. She had to make certain Hux would lose: Ben Solo was the key.

Phasma was certain he had used the code as soon as she gave it to him. Seeing the file was empty, he should have known instantly that it was her doing and that, if he wanted real answers, it would cost him. She knew he would want to negotiate, which was why it was no surprise when he turned up without preamble.

AR0046 caught her midday just at the end of her course on Clone Troopers, one of two classes she was taking on the district main. If she wasn't mistaken, he was coming all the way from a lecture on the pros and cons of combat droids in war that was given across base, more than a bridge away. He would have had to have left early. Phasma smiled. He was more desperate than she thought.

“AR0046,” she acknowledged. The redhead didn't bother with pleasantries.

“What do you want?”

Phasma gave him a look, somewhat surprised.  Hux continued, “I know you have it. Why is it so important to you that I know whatever is in that file, and what do you expect to get for it?”

She laughed, delighted, and Hux's expression darkened. “Charm a lady, why don't you? You're just cutting straight to the chase, then. This is better than I thought.”

Armitage felt a tightening in his stomach. Phasma always knew how to make him feel the worst about something- always knew just what to say to demean him. He hated it.

“Tell me,” he insisted. “I mean it, or I'm leaving and I won't come back.”

The blonde scoffed and rolled her eyes, but she took him to a spare study room anyway.

 

“What is all this about?”

Armitage felt nervous once the door clicked shut. It was so quiet inside, the room only a few feet across in either direction with nothing but a small table and a few chairs. The sealed door cut out all background noise.

Phasma took her time getting into her seat, enjoying how tense he was in his chair, unconsciously gripping the armrest. When she settled finally, cold blue leveled on him both too close and too far away, Hux licked his lips. He wouldn't ask again.

“You cleared the file.” It wasn't a question. Phasma shrugged as though it couldn't be helped.

“...And now you want to make a deal for information.”

Phasma raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Hux grit his teeth.

“Alright, fine. Why should I trade you- whatever it is you want, for the contents of this file? Of what use is it to me?”

“Ah, jackpot. Look at you, asking the right questions.” She smiled with red, full lips and Hux thought of sharks. “You want this because it will help you control your unit. You say they will only obey SV1632? The contents of the file will make sure SV1632 obeys _you_ \- all in time for evaluations, nonetheless. It's perfect.”

Hux narrowed his eyes. He didn't doubt that SV could be manipulated with his past. The way he'd reacted at just the idea of Armitage knowing was telling. He could kill him if he wanted, though he hoped SV was smart enough not to murder his superior officer twice- even the Supreme Leader would have a hard time overlooking that.

“And what are you proposing in exchange? I know you better than to think you'd tell me any of this to be kind.”

“‘46, please, do you really distrust me that much?”

Hux said nothing.

Phasma waved her hand dismissively. “That's fair, alright. Evaluations this season are very important to me for obvious reasons, yes? Yes. I want to do well. I want _us_ to do well.”

“Really.” His tone was dry. While Phasma leaned over the table casually with her forearms on the edge, hands grasped, Hux was straight-backed and still. Phasma clearly had more convincing to do.

“I want to captain the army, AR. I want to lead the effort. You want Major, you've wanted it ever since we were young- but you want more than that now, don't you? Don't tell me what, I can guess. Colonel? General?”

Hux didn't even blink, his breath short and heart racing. He was sure she could hear it, but he kept his face a careful mask. Phasma’s lips slowly turned up in a sly smile and he felt nervous again.

“Oh, ‘46...you want Admiral. That's what you want.”

Hux frowned and he could feel himself squirming, Phasma looking down on him like a pinned insect. She just laughed. He didn't think he'd ever seen her smile or laugh genuinely- only when she wanted something from him.

Phasma went on. “Stars, you're ambitious. I am, too, Hux.”

He flinched at that, he couldn't help it. How did she find out?

“Oh, I know lots of things about lots of people, but we can get into that later. Now, we're going to talk about all the ways helping me will help you.”

“You already said-”

She was out of her chair in a moment, all the feigned friendliness turned to ice that trapped his breath in his lungs.

“It's rude to interrupt people trying to help you, Lieutenant Hux. I'd hate to take what I know about you and your peculiar attachments to your junior lieutenant higher up the chain.”

“What kind of attachments?” Armitage had gone pale, his voice too soft to give off the force he wished it did. Phasma pulled back her claws and settled into an easier demeanor. It made his skin crawl, how easily she manipulated the atmosphere of the room.

“As I was saying, AR0046, I think you would find helping me at evaluations lucrative. I like you, I really do, and having you in a place of power could help me. We work very well together, you can't deny it.”

He couldn't. She was right, and it shone on his face. She seemed pleased and Hux let himself relax a little.

“In exchange for your services during evaluation time, I will give you your blackmail on your second. In exchange for your loyalty in the future, Hux,” her voice lowered and she leaned in close, close enough that he could feel her breath warm on his face and he felt his own catch. “I will destroy our enemies, and we will be the most powerful leaders the First Order has even known.”

The panic in his mind had been silenced and he was caught in her eyes and her lipstick and her voice. Phasma was more than intimidation, she was power, and she was offering to share it with him. Ruling together had always been the plan, the final destination, but it had never been agreed upon or discussed. She was rising faster than him, accomplishing more- why did she feel the need to reach behind and pull him up with her? What was she afraid of?

“What do you want from me, Phasma?”

She smiled softly at the name. Hux couldn't tell if it was genuine.

 

\---------

 

Armitage was still reeling when he made it back to the dock at the end of the day. He hadn't been able to focus through his last class, Phasma and all her revelations swimming in his mind and distracting him. She had kissed him before she let him go- when he'd agreed at last. He felt like he'd been wiping lipstick off of his mouth for the better part of an hour, even though the impression of her lips was long gone. The taste of it made him gag- where had she gotten ahold of makeup anyway? There was none available in the leisure stores and no one he could think of wore any. What was she doing to get ahold of luxuries of that kind? Who was she doing favors for? He licked his lips for what felt like the millionth time, as though if he didn't, everyone would know a girl kissed him today. He had never been kissed before.

Romance had never been much of a preoccupation, and he still worried over what she had mentioned about his “peculiar attachment”. It hadn't felt particularly romantic when their mouths came into contact. It felt like skin on skin and confusion and a lot of Phasma manipulating him again. He knew she didn't like him. She respected him, perhaps, and admired his wit and ambition, even expressed an interest in apparently wanting him around in the future- but no, Hux couldn't say that he felt very liked by her. One could need someone without liking them, want someone without it. Hux doubted even that.

No matter her goals, which he knew she only made partially clear, he had felt nothing when they kissed. It was a touch, an intimate one he had been trying to rub off and out and forget. He didn’t look forward to a repeat of the practice. As he neared the training dock, the static of the bond hit him full force. He had been ignoring it for hours.

 _Different_ , came a thought that wasn't his.

_You. Different. What?_

It was like tuning into a distant radio station, the voice crackling in and out, unclear. He couldn't help but agree with the observation. He felt different- off-balanced, overwhelmed, unsure. The anger and hurt that had weighed down the bond for the past few days was all but forgotten. Hux had bigger things concerning him now.

SV1632, Ben Solo, and their peculiar attachment could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't ask me where Phasma gets her lipstick, just know that it's a super high quality velvet matte and it's FIRE


	5. Secret Combinations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bond is embraced.  
> ie. The one where we finally get to see the babes happy for .5 seconds and Phasma ruins everything because of course

Snoke could see it flickering and getting stronger, more solid. The light had tethered itself to the Solo boy, but he couldn't yet discern the source. Before, he could get deep enough into his mind to see through his eyes, feel through his limbs, but this light obscured even the faintest of senses from him. It was a white film over Snoke’s careful gaze, and his hold over the boy's mind was weak, influence surface level at best. He knew what he was feeling, usually some concoction of despair, shame, anger, and bloodlust, but as of late, there was something else rooted in it, something different: sympathy, perhaps even affection. He couldn’t say for certain, but he would identify the parasitic energy hosting on his apprentice and tear it from him, if necessary. Snoke would rent him to pieces and forge him into something stronger. This light in him would have no place in Solo’s heart; it would flounder, squirming like an insect and he would smear it with one carefully placed foot. His apprentice would be his again, and Snoke would not make the mistake of dismissing him twice.

 

\----------

 

Ben was meditating. He supposed if he was going to slip into it anyway, he may as well try to make use of the time he spent doing it. He had his eyes trained on the horizon, seeing but not seeing. Ben sat on the edge of the pier, legs dangling. Water splashed his feet every now and again when a wave came high enough. 

The rest of S5 was gradually meandering back to the dock from their other trainings. The lieutenant would be back by 1600 hours and everyone had to be ready to train again, and more rigorously than the morning. Ben didn't attend extra classes- he didn't need them. In between Force training he did on his own, meditation, combat with the unit, and leisurely tinkering, he didn't have time to worry about school work and grades. He passed his evaluations and that was all that really counted.

He had sensed the lieutenant from far away, muted by the haze of the Force. His signature was odd, different. Ben paid it little mind.

The rain was cold, but it didn't bother him. Despite the chill, the standard-issue raincoat kept him dry, even if the wind rattled his teeth and swept his hair into his eyes. The ocean looked different to him. Not only today, but since The Incident, the landscape of the planet felt far removed and separate, as though he had been cut off from it. The currents didn't pull him, the depths didn't drag him in, and the shadows of the beasts below the water didn't comfort him in his musing. Where he once had looked and seen himself, he now saw something else, facing a world that he didn’t recognize. It felt as though he stood atop a floor that should have given way under his feet. He had stepped off where no floor should be- why wasn't he falling? To look down and see no entrance to a place that had for so long welcomed, strengthened, and embraced him was more than disheartening. Could AR0046 and their bond block him from this even when apart? The discovery struck fear in his heart- and that was when the door opened. It had taken a moment, but the darkness began to close in around him. It was everywhere, a black hand over his eyes, blocking his ears, filling his mouth and closing tight around his neck. Distantly, Ben felt water wash over his left boot as a wave leapt high on the metal ledge. Her voice crept in, sad.

_ I hate that you do this, that you hurt yourself, that you hate yourself, that you hate, that you hate- _

The ink seeped deeper and muffled his mother's taunting to make room for other monsters in his mind. Next came his father,  smiling and proud and drunk and dismissive and not home, not here, not anywhere,  _ what are you still doing looking at me like that, get the kid out of my face, Leia, I can't deal with this right now _ . 

His teeth ground as he saw his mother doing just that. This was all part of it. To pull power from the dark side, he had to fuel the anger. The only way was to provoke pain, and when emotional pain wasn't enough, he had to resort to physical methods of drawing the darkness out. 

He had training later- he didn't want to damage his body today. This would have to do, and so Ben focused hard on it, magnified it until he felt himself shaking and his eyes swimming in unshed tears. He was grasping at straws, pulling triggers he'd worn down to the nubs, digging and searching to latch onto that one memory that would get him through the meditation session. His parents fighting; the day they sent him away and didn't take him back; how nothing he did was good enough, his work insufficient; how he was a constant disappointment- when he did succeed, he provoked fear. 

Ben came back to himself a moment, coughing on a sob. He shook it off and dove back in. That was it. His parents, his master, people he thought were his friends fearing him, hating him, manipulating him with their pity and their pacifying lies because they were afraid, so afraid. They were weak, they were beneath him and he crushed them, they deserved it, all of them deserved the swift justice he gave them, it was their own fault-

_ Ben? _

He jolted. Who was that? It was new, it was foreign- from outside? Outside his body, outside his mind, but so real and loud and he felt it and he was trapped in the ocean, he couldn't breathe, couldn't respond-

_ That's your name. Isn't it, SV1632?  _

He clawed at the hand over his eyes, tried to shake off the palms pressed to his ears, struggled to breathe past the thick ropes of the darkness wrapped tight around his neck.

_ Can you hear me? _

Who? Who was it? The ocean and all of its monsters wouldn't let him go, wouldn't let him see. The tar in his mouth stuck in his throat and he couldn't speak.

_ Are you okay? Stop that.  _

Blood was rich on his tongue. Pain sparked his heart and it picked up, raced, hiccuped a beat and-

_ Ben, stop. _

He fought that much more.

_ You'll hurt yourself- _

He could see the light under the water and he reached for that glowing stone, that warmth that hummed around him day and night and eluded him so well. He swam for it, reaching, reaching; he grasped it in his hand.

“Please!”

And he was on the dock. It was raining and it was cold enough for him to tremble, but his face flushed hot with pain and there was blood under his nails. Ben was wide eyed and frantic, trying to make sense of what had snapped him out of the dreamscape. His eyes focused on someone in front of him, a face that was pale with thin red lips and hair dark from rain. Soulful eyes, (were they blue?) looked into him and saw, saw everything, were rimmed with a thousand white eyelashes.

The someone looked angry.

“--istening to me? Look what you've done!”

There were hands on his face, they were so cold and it felt nice, took away from the heat of the pain flared around his eyes and his mouth and his neck and had he done that?

Someone was still talking to him, at him, pulling him to his feet and Ben was dazed, still getting his bearings on being forced out of meditation in the thick of it like that. When the lieutenant had shocked him out of it before, he was on the tail end of a session. This time was different. It should have been impossible.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

His voice was quieter, less angry, the noise was gone, no rain, and it was warm- inside. Where? Bed. There was a pressure on his chest and then softness, it was a bed, and the hands were on him again and they weren't soft, not as soft as they should be, his face hurt so badly-

“I'm sure it does, genius.” 

And then so much better. Dull pain, quiet pain throbbing with his pulse but better- and that was when the thunder came and he could think clearly again.

 

Hux had slapped him. 

SV1632 had been spaced out on the dock looking like he was about to jump off again. He called his serial number once, twice, and nothing. He got close, tried again, and nothing. Armitage used the name Phasma had given him when nothing else seemed to work- didn't the S5 kids say not to touch him? He'd just tried to get his attention when all of a sudden the moron covered his face and Hux saw his nails, the way he pulled at his skin, and he stopped him before he took his own eyes out. He struggled with him, his wrists held down firmly with all the strength Hux had and Ben was fighting him to try again, deaf to his pleading. He had dragged him away from the edge of the dock and wrenched his hands away from his face again to see blood streaming down red with the rainwater and SV looking at him with wide, glazed eyes. He thought his second had recognized him and come back to himself, but it was but a moment. All too soon, he was gone again and the panic that seized Hux’s chest had no right to be there. It was one of the scariest things he'd ever seen.

They were in Cabin 1. Hux had long accepted that he wasn't going to respond- might not even be able to hear or understand him. He just patched him up, got him settled, and on a whim, smacked the clarity into his expression. Frankly, he was surprised that had worked- he was more likely to get away with it when he was a vegetable and SV just had a very slappable face.

“You with us, starshine?”

“What?” He seemed to be getting his bearings, touching the bandages on his face and taking in his surroundings. Those dark eyes Armitage had so firmly decided he disliked were on him again, and he didn't know if they still made that startlingly empty list. Ben raked his gaze over his lieutenant. “You're all wet,” he said simply, and Hux almost laughed.

“You are out of your mind,” he huffed, collapsing back in his desk chair. Ben just looked at him stupidly.

“How did you get me out?”

“I'm stronger than I-”

He held up his hand, brow furrowed and tone firm, “No. How did you break into my headspace? I was too deep in meditation for anyone to have been able to snap me out of it, but I could hear you in my head. How did you do it?”

Armitage was flabbergasted. “I have no clue what you're talking about. I was just trying to keep you from blinding yourself.”

“Keep me from-” Ben paused, glanced at his hands and saw the blood browning about his cuticles. “Oh,” he breathed. That made sense. Hux was finally starting to relax as the adrenaline faded. He expected his second to be brooding in the direction of the window, but his eyes were instead trained on his blood-crusted fingers. The redhead had to strain to hear his next words; they were no louder than a whisper.

“I was trying to get to you.” 

Ben could remember now, feeling the hands trapping him underwater and blinding him, deafening him, choking him. There were scratches by his own hand down his neck and up to his forehead, small surface cuts that stung. He kept talking. Hux was silent.

“I was trying to break out of it so I could answer you. I could hear you calling out to me.”

Hux had taken to drying his hair with a shirt he'd draped over the chair, the auburn slowly edging into its normal color. It was messy. He sounded annoyed. “I was yelling at you. I'd be surprised if-”

“I shouldn't have been able to hear anything at all.” The somber tone of his voice made Hux pause, and it pitched lower. “I could feel you in my head. You were saying my name and all I could think of was finding you.”

The bond thrummed again like music, the chords rippling through the air and breaking over them like waves. Ben had little doubt he was Force Sensitive now, even if he didn't realize it or understand what it meant. He felt tired all of a sudden, tired of pushing against it, tired of shutting him out, tired of trying to force past this curse of a bond to get to his old wells of power.

“You've ruined me,” he muttered. He couldn't even muster the rage now, drained. “The Force seems determined to make me your pet. Who am I to defy such a master?”

His tone was bitter, ironic, and Ben wasn't looking at him. Hux only stared, a hand stuck in his damp hair. He was stripped to his underclothes, the tight sweater and grey pants meant to lock out the cold. The tracksuit was soaked through; he had taken it off and cast it aside almost as soon as they had entered. It was lukewarm at best within the cabin. Even though he was still damp and ought to be chilly, the electric something sparked heat in his core and made him shiver, copper bright on his tongue in a familiar taste he'd come to associate with his junior lieutenant. Their eyes were locked, and while Ben spoke of pets and masters, it was Hux who felt trapped, his heart in his mouth and that fluttering weightlessness that made him feel both sick and elated.

“Do you know what you do to me?”

Hux was tongue-tied and dumb; his brain couldn't string thoughts together.  He watched Ben stand and close the distance. Ben watched him in turn, Hux so small in his chair, with his cheeks and ears and nose flushed such a rosy pink and his lips parted in silent question and, “Don't you understand?”

Hux shook his head. Ben's face was close, too close, all of him was too close as he crouched to see him and for once, Hux had to look down to keep eye contact. Where he looked wide eyed and shocked, Ben was weary and amused, albeit in a sad way. His hand came up to grip his chin and Hux flinched. Ben didn't let him move far.

“You're in my thoughts. You're in my dreams. You torment me in places no one should be able to go.”

That terrible anticipation stirred his insides, waiting, waiting. Hux didn't know what to make of it- he didn't know what to make of any of this.

“You hold so much power, yet you don't have the faintest idea how much. This bond could destroy me, lieutenant.”

Hux swallowed, and he saw Ben's piercing gaze drop to his throat then back up, felt his thumb graze his lower lip oh so gently. His voice was rough and made Hux shiver.

“Isn't it fair that I get some leverage of my own?”

_ Peculiar attachments,  _ he thought absently.

That was when the world ended.

His ears were ringing and it felt like a vacuum around them, just pulling in and in and with such intensity it stole his breath. Ben kissed him. The energy was there, always, but it burned as a star now, a brilliant  _ something _ that made his heart race and  _ oh _ \- when had he closed his eyes? He could feel himself moving forward, drawn to him like a magnet and Hux was touching him, that awful, protocol-breaking hair coarse and wet between his fingers. He took a breath, a small gasp between them, and he felt Ben do the same. The air around them seemed distorted to him, like heat waves on the horizon of a desert planet and their eyes met, searching just as their hands did, pulling and taking and  _ more _ .

_ What is this? _

He felt the question burn in his lungs and he took another breath. A thousand suns burst in him and around him and between them was so much, too much to keep inside and Ben smiled and it was everything.

_ A kiss. _

They were closer than before when the lieutenant tightened his grip. They crashed together as planets did in infant galaxies, melding into one world and one flesh and pieces of each other spiralling around them, forgotten in a kiss that birthed life into their own little star system. Hux tried to steal the air from his body, slipping off the chair and into his embrace, pulling Ben with him, with him forever, please,  _ yes _ . Before, mere seconds of contact had sent Hux into a seizure. This was different. No foreign mind assaulted his and forced its way inside. It was Ben and he knew him and felt him and wanted and Ben wanted- he could feel the desire raging through the bond and coloring the sky. A part of them had always wanted, tethered through time and space just waiting to come to life. The  _ something _ they shared had advocated for this very connection, Hux felt sure, but for all his struggling in the past, he had tasted the liberation. Instead of wanting, now he needed. Once the forbidden fruit was sampled, all the old laws, old restrictions and reasons seemed silly. How could he have possibly lived without knowing, feeling, being this? 

As they adjusted to prolonged contact, the bond settled into an energizing kind of overwhelming, like warning lights flashing red while disaster was moments, lifetimes away. He could pick out through the haze of sensation how Ben’s lips moved against his, chapped and clumsy and perfectly made for his own soft mouth, smooth with chapstick and red from erasing Phasma’s touch. He could feel himself trembling with the effort to stay under a semblance of control, to hold onto something even though the universe seemed to shake him off and leave him in the arms of his captor- for certainly it was Armitage who was caught, was it not?

And his arms- Ben surrounded him. He was everywhere, his hands too large and too hard on his waist, holding him too tightly, but Hux was holding him, too. His arms were around his broad shoulders and his nimble fingers ran across his back and pulled his hair. Hux's lithe body was pressed as close to him as possible, his slim frame moulded to Ben at every curve and he was in his lap and his thighs gripped his hips and when had they slipped to the floor?

_ Ben, _ rang his mind over and over,  _ please _ ,  _ Ben, more, want, yes,  _ Ben-

And it was everything.

 

\----------

 

The first bottle arrived late that night. Its delivery had been a covert affair; it was after evening training, but before lights out. Everyone was in the refreshers or lying about the cabins, with the lieutenant himself debating whether or not to call his peculiar attachment to his room. When the door chimed that he had a visitor, he had expected Ben. Who else would visit him in their personal time? Instead of his goliath second in command on his doorstep, however, he found Phasma’s promised gift. It was a small thing made of dark blue glass, only about the size of his palm and easy enough to conceal. Armitage didn't dare open it. No matter what Phasma had said her shipments would entail, what the substance they contained would do, he couldn't trust her at her word.

When they were younger, their escapades were devious, but fundamentally harmless: sabotaging uniform checks or hijacking a leisure store shipment, planting contraband amongst their peers. They were little things to keep them ahead, and individually, nothing that would get them in too much trouble. What his childhood partner in crime was up to now, though, he wasn't so sure about. It had been at least a year, perhaps two, since they last concocted a scheme and put their brainpower to the test. Hux supposed he had gotten rather distant when his weapons courses became a focus and his father had gotten more heavily involved in his career track. It hadn't occurred to him that Phasma would have goals of her own, especially not ones that required her to go to such extreme lengths to accomplish them. Hacking into government files, selling confidential information, distribution of what he was told were drugs- of what could even be poison. After the way she had looked at him in the study room that afternoon, Hux thought her capable of anything. She would stop at nothing to get what she wanted; rules and morals and allegiances were beneath her. As soon as he ceased serving her purposes, Hux had little doubt she would be rid of him. It made him shudder to think that, given the right circumstances, he could easily do the same to anyone, including her. It made his breath catch to think that someday, he may have to do the same to Ben. The bond crackled in his ears when he concluded that if the choice did come, he would. It was in his nature to survive; no connection, no matter how deeply housed, would be enough to stop him from his ascent. Regardless, if this Force bond Ben had described in their afternoon pillowtalk worked the way he claimed it did, it would be in his favor to keep him alive and close at all times. Ben's death would ruin him, supposedly. He soothed himself with the knowledge that their union would never be unfavorable- that he feared for choices that he would never have to make.

Armitage rolled the bottle in his hand. He would have to get the contents tested before he put them to their intended use. A superior officer using his influence to poison his own men would mean more than dishonorable discharge and expulsion; it meant prison. Sixteen was old enough to be tried as an adult by the Order. The premeditated murder of thirteen people, provided he didn't consume any himself, would surely end in capital punishment. If Phasma intended to get him out of the picture and become Admiral herself, or perhaps replace him as her cohort, that was a sure way to do it. He didn't want to think her capable of doing such a thing to him, to the closest person she had to a friend, but he knew in his heart she was.

It crossed his mind to tell Ben, but he dismissed it immediately. First, he had to determine if the powder was the substance Phasma claimed. Camidryline was known to boost stamina and lower pain sensitivity. The benefits of such a drug would prove immeasurable come evaluation time in a few weeks. Phasma’s reasoning for her help in testing season was a desire to rekindle their partnership and solidify a future in the Order. Hux was more inclined to believe the latter over the former, but he didn't dismiss the possibility of the whole thing being a trap. She was blackmailing him as well as bribing him, a smart move if only because she knew Hux and knew that one of the two wouldn't be enough to ensure his compliance. To report the whole thing would jeopardize him just as much as her, and where all the consequences lie in disobeying her, the benefits lie near one hundred percent in joining forces. It was very clearly thought out, and if he were honest, he needed the help. Hux was not a ground soldier. He was new to these kinds of drills and simulations, and an evaluation less than a month after his first training in the area was more than unfair. 

There was also the possibility of Ben's betrayal come evaluation. The old S5 lieutenant had been disposed of in one way or another, leaving Ben in charge a full month before the testing began. This, theoretically, should have left too little time to find a replacement before the next season. Ben would have been acting lieutenant and tested in the place of his superior, which would have lead to an inevitable promotion to the position. Hux had sabotaged all of that. Ben's sudden physical interest in him, which Hux couldn't say he disliked, was very particularly timed. He would be an idiot to call it coincidence. Would he turn on him at the last second? There was no credibility to Ben's summary of bonding dynamics. His study of spiritual matters was all he had over Hux's own experience. The supposed madness could very well be a ploy to ensure his own safety- Hux wouldn't try to intervene if he thought doing so would lead to his own ruin. It could be a lie. He could be using this bond, however it really worked, and his shameless sexual prowess to gain his trust. He could be using his sway over Hux's emotions to distract him until the moment he chose to strike. Then again, perhaps not. Hux certainly hoped not, as loath as he was to admit it.

That night, he dreamt of the hands over his eyes and palms over his ears and fingers gagging him as they reached down his throat, trying to gut him from the inside out. There was a mounting pressure on all sides, over and under and through him- water. He struggled to free himself. He pried the hands out and away, bit down until he tasted blood, kept fighting despite the nails of the darkness clawing at him for purchase and causing pain, so much pain. He dreamt he heard the voice of an angel guiding him somewhere safe, that the only way to reach it was to free himself of the prison he'd so willingly surrendered to. He had to go down, down, and grasp the light on the seafloor. Where the stone lie was the darkest part of the ocean, the blackest abyss, and to reach it, he had to endure the nails scraping his face and choke on the blood of the monsters he'd defeated. Reaching the light meant breaking down walls he'd built himself and sinking into true darkness, bearing the heaviest of weight. Armitage knew this was not his dream.

The aching left him then, and his mind ebbed into something more familiar. The stars welcomed him and there were no creatures to trap him, no oceans to swallow him whole. Here, there were no oceans at all. Armitage had always hated Kamino. He didn't find solace in the storm the way Ben did. There was no order in the chaos Ben seemed to find so captivating. Here, it may have been dark, but the galaxies were plentiful and their colors rich in the distance. There was solid earth beneath his feet and a silence that, instead of suffocating, was easy.

_ It's nicer here, _ came a voice. Hux shook his head. It only looked that way to an outsider.

There was no water and no sun, only empty land and untouchable stars he had no way of reaching. In this dream he'd suffered as long as he could remember, Hux would walk into the horizon to find something, and it would never appear. He would get hungry and thirsty, he would get tired, but be unable to stop. There were no beasts or lights or goals, no voices of angels or mothers to guide him. In this dream, he was alone and made to wander with no reward. In this dream, Hux would watch himself waste away to bone.

_ It's not as traumatic in this world, _ mused the voice again, itching at the back of his mind. Hux supposed it wasn't. It was lonely, though, he thought. It was hopeless.

They were caught between waking and sleeping. A spark took to the air as water lapped at Hux's feet, the metallic taste in his mouth not unlike blood. It was a ghost of Ben's dream overlapping his, and his earth became an island in Ben’s sea. Their sky was wide and bright with stars they couldn't reach, but there were treasures just beneath the surface of the water that glowed with a lifelight of their own. The water didn't rage, but rippled with the crackling wind; clouds flickered on the horizon and there was a presence at his back, a heart beating in his ears. Hands too big, too firm, held him by his waist. He could feel him breathing. 

Hux leaned into the warmth of his body, solid and there.

_ This is much better _ , Ben said, and Hux wondered how much of it was real.

_ All of it, _ he answered. 

Thunder crashed in the distance, and Hux woke up.

Rain pelted the singular window of Cabin 1. It was the dead of night, and he was alone. His eyes stung with tears.

None of it was real.


	6. Illusions Captured in Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All that glitters is not gold; some may not be lost, but hidden.
> 
> ie. kylo and hux can't fall in love in three weeks with a handful of conversations, but at least one of them can fall into something a touch more sinister. also snoke is a creep.

Ben no longer sought after the sea of black water. He no longer welcomed the beasts of the deep to overwhelm his senses and guide his hand. He saw that it was a trap, as it always was, just as the light had been. They were the same cage, only with different doors, sealed by different locks. The Force was a neutral thing- it had to be. No one could be born in darkness or born in light. The will of the Force was no respecter of persons; its balance was its own to maintain. To believe that petty little institutions of power run by mortal men could hold sway over the lifeblood of the universe itself was foolish. The Force was neither black nor white, but grey, and the goodness or evil of it was channeled through the wielder, just as this bond was grey and neutral. The potential of it lie between he and Armitage. Should not the rest operate the same? Did the darkness of the Sith not come from the Sith itself?

At the Jedi temple, That Man had taught him to be vigilant of the dark side, as though it were a living entity seeking him out- and it was, to a point. It was the Supreme Leader. It was not some intangible “side” that tempted him in the night and clouded his thoughts, it was not fate that guided him to massacre. It was the Supreme Leader using the Force for darkness, thus, making the Force dark. It was like straining water through newly dyed cloth. The water went in clear, and passed through sporting whatever color the dye had been. The only sides, light, dark, were political ones.

Good and evil were manufactured things, concepts made to take dominion over one another across worlds and galaxies, and through the bond, Ben could see that clearly. He didn't resent it. The strong overcame the weak, it was the nature of things, and good became what the strong ordained, evil what they damned. The darkness ensnared him because he had let it, and through its hand was the only way he knew to grasp power from the Force. He had succumbed to Snoke’s power- he was stronger than him and so Ben obeyed, but it didn't have to be that way forever.

Since the bond had taken hold over his mind, the use of the dark side was increasingly difficult to harness. Instead of rising to greet him like an old friend, it had begun to lash out and take, leaching from him what it needed to survive. It fought him, and he supposed it was because he grew stronger than its hold. It could no longer use him and so, as Snoke’s nature demanded, it sought to beat him into submission, despite all he had given to prove himself. Ben would no longer nurture such a thankless beast.

The pure, unbiased energy of the bond required no price. In this channel of the Force, the power was raw and mounting. He could use it for whatever he saw fit, and in any way. There were no conditions. No longer would he have to dwell on the nature of life and imagine himself as as seedling as That Man had bade him, nor drown in the agony of his failures and let darkness blind him. There was life and death and a balance of things, and in this bond, Ben could see it. Hux made everything seem so simple. He didn't have to choose, he could use both his passion and his will; through the bond, he wouldn't tear himself in half in order to satisfy a Master. Instead, Ben would become his own. He was elated. And such was his mood upon waking.

It was early morning. The grey-blue glow crept softly onto his bed and illuminated the rolling waves of sheets bundled all around him. It was colder than usual this morning and he'd stocked up on blankets, as was his right. He had the access code to the storage unit and he would not apologize for using it. Winter had reared her ugly head yet again, but she was a welcome visitor.

Ben loved the snow; more than that, he loved the ice. Ice floes would glide their way to base in the night, broken shelves from icebergs that rose from the bottom of Kamino’s boundless sea, and Ben would watch them crash into one another as they did, and splinter. They hadn't come yet, but they would. Now, he looked over the storm, quiet and brewing, as the planet thought on its seasonal shift. His window was bordered by fine fractals of ice.

Ben thought of Armitage: his lieutenant, his superior, his rival, his bondmate. Could he dare hope they might be friends? Ben believed he could. He did dare; he did hope, and the sudden heat warming his face was unappreciated. He had kissed him last night. Ben had done more than that, and among those things, he'd made foolish confessions, used such embarrassing lines they could have been quoted from one of his mother's romance novels.

_You're in my thoughts. You're in my dreams. You torment me in places no one should be able to go._

_Isn't it fair that I get some leverage of my own?_

If it hadn't worked so unquestionably well, Ben would have gone to see the Supreme Leader himself and asked that he strike him down where he stood. The worst of it had been that they weren't lines at all- that he'd meant every word. Hux did hold power over him, and it wasn't fair. He had his very life in his hands and could do with it what he pleased. More than that, he stopped his breath and impaired his reason, quickened his heart, flared his anger, made his body- oh. And then there was that.

Ben had more than kissed him. He distinctly recalled the way he'd dragged the boy to him, how he'd held him closely with rough hands. He had rushed, had followed the overwhelming tide of feeling the bond inspired and the lieutenant hadn't resisted. Touching him made the Force sing high in his ears, the air vibrating with it. Hearing him sigh his name, beg him, _please, Ben, more_ , left him feeling tipsy. Watching him come apart under his hand left him drunk.

Ben caught his own eye in the frosted glass, his reflection staring back at him. There was a mark at the base of his throat he could feel ache faintly, but his sweater would cover it with ease. There was another, thankfully smaller, beneath his jaw that couldn't be hidden, and that surprised him. He wondered when it had happened. Ben supposed he could excuse it as the result of a fight. The lieutenant’s skin was alabaster white and his veins were blue spider's webs underneath. He bruised easily and plentifully, and Ben could only imagine, with a guilty kind of glee, that his skin bore a map of their coupling. He would love to see it.

The boy in the window grinned.

The injuries he'd sustained from his episode on the dock had been healed by a medidroid and a few bacta patches, nothing serious. All the redhead could talk about once he saw the clock was what a scandal it would be for him to appear to the men in such a state, though he somehow felt he was talking more about himself. Ben wrecked him.

The post-coital haze had been pleasant while it lasted; Ben mouthed at his freckles and whispered the positives of the bond, praised him and made him gasp. It wasn't until Hux pushed him away, frowning and insistent, that he had to come clean about the rest. He hadn't wanted to talk about it. It was easier, now that their minds were so close and their energy so warm and united, to pretend that nothing was wrong- that nothing could go wrong, that he wasn't scared. It was easier to forget why he was at the Academy, pretend there wasn't an Academy at all, but only them, together, with a shared heartbeat between them. Pre-bond Ben might have been angry at Armitage for pressing the issue. Pre-bond Ben would have hated him for ruining their moment. He wouldn't forgive him for breaking the illusion he held dearer than he thought. Bonded Ben felt nothing but reluctant understanding. He could feel Hux's concern; he  knew it was as hard for him to ask as it was for himself to answer- that Hux didn't really want to hear what Ben wasn't saying.

He told him anyway, and Hux went quiet after. The warmth between them was muted and cold and it wasn't his fault, it _wasn't_ , he didn't ruin anything, Hux was the one who asked, and-

The lieutenant had kissed him, to soothe him, perhaps, and checked the time. Then it was panic, they were late for training, the whole sector was on the field waiting, they were a mess, and Hux was everywhere and nowhere at once. Everywhere in the physical world, nowhere in the bond, and Ben had sulked despite himself. He looked again to the shadow of spots in his reflection.

Ben wondered why Hux had let these bruises slip untreated, the one on his face, of all places, and the much darker, angrier one at his throat- and then smiled. It was a display of power. It was private and between them, but nonetheless a statement. He had no doubt the lieutenant had healed his own unseemly markings. These were badges he wanted him to bear. Ben supposed he couldn't disobey such a direct order.

Everything seemed better in the morning, and no matter what turn his thoughts took, they came back to Armitage Hux and the overwhelming rightness and contentment that came with a bond so fully embraced. Ben could argue he felt very close, maybe the closest he had ever been, to happy.

_It's awfully early to be thinking of such things._

The voice was playful, almost, and he was reminded of all the freckles dotting those slender shoulders, of his smile in the warm light of the Cabin. The bond hummed pleasantly.

Ben grinned. _Good morning, lieutenant. I was just remembering how cute you sounded begging for my-_

 

_Say it and memories will be all you have._

 

_I trust my reminiscing doesn't displease you, sir?_

 

_I would say such fantasies were beneath someone of your station._

  


_Why, Armitage, I thought you liked being beneath someone of my station._

He felt him shy away, warm and embarrassed and a ripple of pride and fondness pulled at Ben's heart.

_Be quiet._

Ben thought of the dream they'd shared and brought Hux with him. He pictured the island, and the sea with its lights shimmering below the surface. He imagined the sky studded with stars and the wind in their faces and storm clouds with their strobe lights in the distance.

 _It's dark here,_ Hux thought sullenly, and the mirth was gone. Ben was confused. The island had been peaceful the night before. He supposed it was mostly dark, that was true. The pinpricks of light were promises of more to come; the night that overwhelmed their dreamscape only reflected what they had here on Kamino. As they traveled and grew, and they would, the scape would change. A sun would come eventually, if that was something Hux wanted. Ben's hopeful thoughts did nothing to dissuade him, however, and Hux's mounting displeasure burned him like a brand. A haze of despair rose from the water, blocking out the stars. It wasn't his. Concern pierced him like a knife and he was thrust back into his bed in the cabin, suddenly too cold and smothered. Hux pushed him out. Panic twisted his gut and he returned to the dreamscape.

_What's wrong?_

He could feel Hux pushing him away again. The water was pulling back from the shore, the rise of barren land sending Ben and his lights slipping down slopes and into valleys and trenches. Why was he doing this? They just got here- was it not wonderful? Didn't he feel relieved to no longer be alone?

Ben's good mood was gone, a cruel hand gripping his ribcage and threatening to crush as his consciousness wavered between reality and the bond. Whatever his reasoning was, Hux's distress wasn't his fault- it _wasn't._

Everyone he had ever trusted had turned on him. Everyone he had ever loved was rid of him as quickly as possible. If he knew how deeply he'd dug his hooks into Ben, Hux would leave. He'd tear himself out of his mind and out of his soul and leave Ben gaping. It would be the third time someone had done so.

Before, there was nothing between them worth keeping, but after last night, it was worse than being unable to imagine himself without the lieutenant. In fact, he could see himself without him very easily. He knew exactly what being alone again would feel like, bond or no bond, and watching Hux leave him might be the last thing either of them ever do. Ben knew he would kill him, just like Those People. He had loved them, they betrayed him, and he killed them for it. If it came to, Hux would share their fate. The only difference would be that Ben would ensure he didn't come out of it. He wouldn't want to piece himself together a third time.

But he wouldn't do that. They kissed last night. They had shared dreams. Ben had heard him, touched him, knew him now, surely. He had seen who he was. Ben pined for him all through the night because Armitage felt the same as he did. Armitage needed him, needed to have him and have him close. Didn't he?

Ben looked up and his bondmate was still leaving.

_Armitage, stop._

He was pulling farther away from him- he wasn't answering, wasn't letting him follow wherever his mind was going. Ben reached out to him again.

_What changed? Why are you doing this?_

No answer. It wasn't working. Ben forced himself to calm down. Hux was alone in his midnight desert with a haze surrounding him. He wore the sadness like a coat. He was all by himself up there and Ben could see him- he could push forward if he really wanted. He could break in and force Hux to contend with him; Ben was much, much stronger in worlds unseen.

However, while the bond itself was stable, their trust was very delicate. Ben wouldn't violate his mind unless he had no other choice. He tried one more time.

_I wish you wouldn't cry. It wouldn't hurt so bad if you stopped fighting me._

Ben knew it was no use. He had no idea how he had lasted even this long bating him back. In his own chest, he felt the phantom pains of anxiety clenching his lungs and in his throat, the rasp of sobs. He couldn't think of what he was so upset about- he didn't have the Force, didn't know how to use it, and certainly didn't rely on it for mental and emotional stability. From Ben's perspective, the only one with justified fear was himself. Losing the bond wouldn't jeopardize Hux at all. He was in no danger from anyone other than Ben himself.

The thought of murder didn't unsettle him as much as it should.

The clouds opened, just for a moment, and he was flooded with relief.

_You are to handle training this morning; I will not be there. I want you to work on initiatory drills and evasive maneuvers. Do not expect me at breakfast._

Before Ben could say a word, his flimsy shields were up again. No matter how easy they would be to wave away or how much of Armitage he could still clearly see, so much of him seeping into the bond out of his control or awareness, Ben would allow him that privacy if he needed it. It troubled him deeply. Part of him felt snubbed and dismissed, unimportant, and the ever red embers began to seethe, but he couldn't let himself be angry about this. Tearing down these walls would break whatever was built yesterday, he just knew it. He couldn't bear to be alone again now that he knew what such intense intimacy was like. Hux was his, he couldn't let him run away- and that meant that Ben couldn't chase him. He had to wait for him to come back.

Hux felt the same. He did. Every time Ben repeated this thought, however, he believed it a little less, and the embers that smouldered in him, that called for retaliation and violence and justice, sought eagerly for something to burn.

 

He had this under control. Hux hadn't truly cried in a very long time, and he didn't cry now. It hurt that he didn't. He wished he would, he wished he hadn't shoved that reaction down so far that needing it gave him a headache, but now that he desperately wanted to cry, he couldn't. His body simply would not comply. Instead, he held himself heaving and choked on air, his face red and his whole body shaking with the stabbing pain of every breath. This shouldn't bother him so much. He should be happy. This was good- it was something he wanted. It was for the greater good and he had made an agreement, besides. It wasn't a big deal. It was nothing to have an anxiety attack over, surely, and he had thought he had grown out of them by now. He was nearly seventeen.

The little blue bottle contained very concentrated Camidryline, just as Phasma had promised, and he did as he was told- she would know if he hadn't. She would find out and punish him; in her place, Armitage could admit mutedly in between the slowing dry sobs, he would do the same. He hated not knowing what she was really planning. He hated when she had the upper hand.

Armitage had put a generous portion of the drug into the porridge, and then more into the jam for the boys that ate toast instead. It was a few hours before morning when he had ventured to the mess hall. The droids were assembling the ingredients for breakfast and it was easy to slip in and out. He was the highest ranking student here. He ran the dock. He could do as he pleased, and he had done things just as bad for Phasma before, so why did this feel like it was too far?

He would not be joining S5 for breakfast today. Ben would.

Yesterday had been a long day. He learned many things. For one, Armitage learned his best friend was not who he thought she was- she was so much worse. He had learned something similar about his junior lieutenant. He had learned Ben's name, a good name that suited him, but had also learned he was a mass murderer. Ben had killed far beyond the political trysts he already suspected him of. He may have even liked it, a thought that made Armitage question why he had done what he did after the fact.

He shouldn't have slept with him. It was a bad idea, and the dream only solidified it. He was out of control when they were together- he wasn't in his right mind. He wasn't in his mind at all, he was in Ben’s, and it terrified him.

Hux felt it happen the exact moment he woke up. His thoughts had scattered and there was nothing but Ben, Ben everywhere and he was warm and comfortable and nice and every important thing he should have been focused on took a back seat. The bond cleared Ben's mind and soothed him, meanwhile, Hux's it clouded and scrambled. It hadn't been this bad before last night.

Hux saw him on that dock and nothing Phasma had warned him about mattered. Ben was in pain and he needed him. He needed Hux to save him, so he did. He needed Hux to patch him up and accept his advances and everything had happened so fast he was blindsided. It was the bond. The energy surged when they touched and it was like he was floating away, but with space between them, he came crashing planetside again. From the incident on the dock to the bedroom, he hadn't gotten Ben to stop touching him in one way or another until he'd physically pushed him away. He couldn't think with him so close, and he needed to do just that to understand what it was between them that was making him lose his head.

The tidbit of information that this lasted their whole lives and after was distressing. Even more so the knowledge that, in the event of Ben's death, his mind would be lost to the bond for the rest of his life.

The worst part of this whole thing was that he didn't want it to go away. He needed the bond. Ben and the power he lent him, even if it was power he couldn't control, were quickly becoming addictive. He couldn't help but see his broken partner and love every shattered piece; when they were together, everything in him screamed to put him back together before the damage couldn't be undone- but Ben's damage could never be undone. What kind of a man was he tethered to, and how had he changed Hux so much in so little time? Not long ago, he hadn't needed anyone, hadn't cared. He was ruthless and driven and meticulous, a touch cruel and that didn't bother him. He was selfish. Vindictive. Impatient, when allowed. Most of that was still true, he thought, but the sudden installation of _guilt_ and _fear_ and _empathy_ made him want to vomit. He hadn't felt any urge to be kind without reward before Ben. He hadn't wanted to please anyone for the sake of their happiness sating his own, and ninety nine percent of him still didn't- but then there was Ben, and everything was different when it came to him. The whole world had new rules.

It terrified him just how little he cared.

Hux shouldn't want to be with him forever. He shouldn't want the land to touch the sea and for the stars to reflect off the water and the storm to sweep him away. He shouldn't want Ben to hold him and fight for him and support him- when he rises up the ranks, and he will because he can't let Ben ruin that, he shouldn't want to take his liability of a second in command with him. He shouldn't want to lose himself in that haze of safety and Ben and _home_ , but he wants. Oh, how Hux wants, and how even more so, he hates.

He resolved that his extreme reaction was due to the strain of keeping Ben out of his mind. It was so difficult to create that distance, and more so to keep it; the effort left him in a cold sweat. Eventually, though, Ben's knocking, banging, tapping on his mental walls quieted and the pressure died down to bearable. His presence was still there, crammed into his headspace. Hux could feel him acutely even now, barely held back by the floodgates Hux imposed. It was only a matter of time until they broke open again and Ben overrode everything, but for now he enjoyed the wave of relief he felt, finally, finally alone.

He coughed once, twice, and the episode was over. If Ben hadn't fought him so hard, he probably wouldn't have had one at all.

Armitage picked himself up from the floor of his cabin on trembling legs. Pins and needles made him wince; he'd been down long enough for his limbs to fall asleep. He was still fully dressed from his escapade this morning. Abusing his power and feeding his unit steroids from a malicious source under blackmail got him an early start on the day, if nothing else. Hux shuffled woodenly into the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. Stars, he was ghastly. He was paler than usual, his lips flushed from biting and his eyes rimmed red and irritated. The boy in the mirror looked thin and frail to him. His face was pinched and his jaw was too sharp and his brow was creased in a near-permanent frown. His eyes were large and bright, brighter by how red they were, and the shock of orange hair only worked to complete the look of a bizarre, sickly young man. Hux didn't recognize himself at all. He felt stripped bare, and before he realized it, his forehead pressed to the glass and he closed his eyes. He took a shuddering breath, then another. He breathed until each one was calm, until he didn't feel like panting and the fever blistering around him had broken. Slowly, he unclasped his hands from the sink.

Armitage needed to write his father.

Their letters were much more frequent now. He hadn't expected a response so soon from the last one, and he wondered if the urgency with which the General was meddling would be a regular factor now that he'd successfully taken control over where Hux was maneuvered within the school, and in the future, the military. He would be put wherever the General wanted him. His career would take shape under at least some influence from the man he hardly knew, and while this was what Armitage had aimed for all along, it was nerve-wracking to watch it happen. Suddenly, he questioned giving up so much control.

It seemed like he had so little now.

Since his second was covering training for him- if Hux had to face him now, he might just lose it- he had from now until mid-morning to write his letter and do whatever else he thought he might need to. He hadn't had a moment's peace since he set foot on this dock and Force help him, he deserved it. Ben would just have to manage; he owed him that much.

Armitage sat on his bed, then thought better of it. In the haze of last night, followed by sharp recollection this morning, he knew very well the sheets smelled like Ben, seawater and blaster fuel. He buried the irrational urge to climb in and nest himself into the side of the bed his visitor had claimed- he was doing this for time to himself, not for an excuse to pine. The silence was so loud, though. Hux shook his head as if to free himself of the thoughts and crossed the room. He sat at the desk and took hold of the holopad he'd left on its surface. The handheld device came to life at his touch, and one more time, almost in disbelief, he read his father's message.

Evaluations were going to be hell.

 

\-------------

 

The Supreme Leader had his suspicions.

Since he was unable to watch him directly and reliably, his vision clouded by such concentrated Force energy, Snoke had taken to planting droids that recorded his every move and showed him what they could. His sources told him his apprentice spent copious amounts of time at the library studying starting last week, even though he didn't attend classes like normal students. He was a frequent visitor already, and though his zeal for his desired subject seemed to have tapered off some, it was still unusual. While he knew his student was fond of books, particularly ones that dated along his grandfather's time under Palpatine, the behavior his spies described did not mirror Ben Solo’s usual leisurely reading. He seemed more focused, as though seeking something very specific. Judging by the material, something also very, very old.

The Supreme Leader had his suspicions.

It made sense, he supposed. While he himself had only encountered one or two Force bonds in his long life, already that was two more than most of life in the universe, and still so much more was unknown. For him to find a third one here, just under his nose where he could study it and perhaps even use it, was a great fortune. Snoke had no proof, but Ben would verify it himself. He always was a terrible liar.

AR0046, formerly Lucivious Bernant, was the bastard son of Shira Bernant and his very own master General. His sources told him that, apparently, his apprentice addressed him with the name “Armitage”, Armitage Hux, a bright lieutenant known for cunning, cruelty, and self-serving interests who sought after his father's position. He would be easy to manipulate- power types always were.

Apparently, the pair were quite attached. In the next few weeks, their dock amongst others would trek to the main district to be evaluated. Ben would not be there; Snoke had plans for him, the kind he knew his predictable apprentice would do anything to be apart of. Meanwhile, he would have his new plaything vulnerable, alone, and subject to his will. Snoke would enjoy picking his mind to bits and taking a look at what was inside. Solo would be unable to stop him from so far away- he just wasn't strong enough yet.

The Supreme Leader looked as deep into the blazing fire of the bond for as long as he could stand it, long enough to catch a glimpse of red hair and tired eyes and fear. His voice was quiet in the lieutenant’s mind.

_Found you._

What a very convenient tool he would be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> evaluations are gonna be sick


	7. Sufficient Tithe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love is not possession. Need is not connection. You don't own the picture just because you broke the frame.  
> Anybody can take, but no one can truly have that which isn't given.
> 
> ie. the one where the kiddos don't communicate and then things happen and it's super public

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest. I had to cut it off here or else I wouldn't have cut it; it would have just gone on until I hit 10k.  
> The next one starts up where this left off, though.

_AR0046:_

_As the season comes to its close, I fully anticipate not only your best, but your most excellent performance in your evaluation. This is your last testing prior to your final season at the Academy, and your marks will determine your chances of recommendation in the spring. These recommendations, as I am sure you are aware, hold sway in your position upon enlistment in the ranks of the First Order military._

_As General, my recommendation would place you at an officer's station. Despite our unique personal ties, however, this is a recommendation earned. I do not take risks with my name nor my credibility. To make certain my judgement is accurate, I have ensured my place as an overseer in your specific testing. I trust you will not fail me._

_Doing so will jeopardize your future in the Order, as well as your future as my son and benefits associated._

_Gen. Brendol Hux._

 

_General:_

_I have every intention of putting forth no less than the most exemplary effort I can muster in the upcoming Combat Specialty District Evaluation. I anticipate a swift victory, and look forward to your recommendation in the future._

_AR0046_

 

Armitage paid closer attention in his classes than he had in weeks. It felt good to take such detailed notes, good to focus and study and be prepared. He had fallen behind in his studies when he left his old district, something he should have paid more attention to. He should have paid more attention to all of it- what had he accomplished here, really? Half hearted training exercises that made little to no difference, foiled by his junior lieutenant.

Thinking such, Armitage crossed the bridge to the S5 dock, brooding. His steps were heavy on the slick, grating metal, but the sound was drowned out by the crash and calm, crash and calm of the ocean several hundred meters below. It seemed distant to him, even as black ice crept up between the grooves of the panels making up the bridge, and the little white floes ghosting the horizon told him that time was indeed passing. Sheets of ice would come after them, and the surface of the sea would be white and soulless and violent in its stillness. Winter brought a different kind of silence; where the storms of summer and fall drowned out all sound other than the sea, winter barricaded it. Used to the silence, the students of the Academy mirrored Kamino, and fell still.

Hux's mind did not.

Weeks of struggling with SV1632, a stubborn man-child who, no matter what, would not relinquish his hold over his inferiors were all he had to show for his trouble. Hux had no more control over the regiment than he did his first day, and worse, Ben was upset with him. Ben had the power to sabotage his evaluation and upturn his entire future, and Hux had allowed personal feelings to provoke him. He had allowed himself to be distracted from his mission. Ben strayed him too far from his priorities, and now the looming event that should have been his focus all this time was upon him and he wasn't ready. The General was coming to see him and pass his final judgement, and his preparation was wasted on SV1632; he just wasn't ready.

It struck him then, as dollops of half frozen rain dripped from the bridge awning onto his boots, that Phasma knew. She watched as ruin crept behind him, had counted on it, and provided him an opportunity to step up the ladder even as she was climbing past him. She wanted him desperate and distracted and Armitage played right into her hands, had followed her blindly out of fear and obligation. Phasma seemed to want him just behind her, beside her- that's what she said, she claimed to seek a permanent partnership.

Hux remembered the kiss. It was strange in the moment and afterward, it felt strange to him now. It wasn't done out of a desire for intimacy or vulnerability, she would never let down her guard and especially not for him, and it was in no way in the heat of the moment or driven by passion. Everything Phasma did was carefully planned.

It was almost like she had used it to seal her words, her vow, to destroy those in the way of their ascension. He remembered her eyes, staring wide and blue and determined into his, trapping him there as she swore. He had been so paralyzed in that moment. The conviction in Phasma’s voice, his confidant and enemy, his friend as much as she was his fear, made his blood go cold. Her hand locked his wrist to the armrest to stop his fretful grasping, forcing him to unclench his fist and let go of the chair. Before he knew what was happening, she was close, too close, and had given him what he could only assume was her first kiss. He knew that it was his.

It had been a promise, and she had used it to gain trust.

As a direct result, Armitage was more paranoid than ever. His father, the General of the army, was coming to determine whether or not he would disown him. His second in command, who he had relations with of an undetermined nature, was dejected and quite possibly angry with him for reasons Hux could only admit were fair and just. His best and worst friend knew all his secrets, and was using the information to blackmail him. Phasma was adamant to leave him no choice but to play along with her schemes. As a direct result, Hux was putting his career in jeopardy by drugging his subordinates with potentially dangerous performance-enhancing steroids.

Hux crossed the threshold into the torrent of slush and rain, making directly for his cabin to change clothes. It was time to see Camidryline’s effect for himself, and get an idea of just how much trouble Phasma had gotten him into.

 

\--------

 

The tension between lieutenant and junior lieutenant, master and commander, had always been easily discernible by the S5 unit as loathing. SV1632 taunted his superior and AR0046 did everything in his power not to lash out, sometimes succeeding, sometimes failing. At night, SV and the rest of the sector poked fun at the stuck-up ginger over alcohol and friendly, casual gambling. It was an established pattern, and one that the group of boys enjoyed immensely. Watching such powerful people, SV superior of course, circle one another like dogs in a pit never grew tiresome, and while S5 did learn from the both of them, they were also privately and immensely entertained by the power struggle.

Today, the training dock carried with it a different air.

AR0046 was absent for morning training and the first two meals of the day, leaving the rightful lieutenant in charge. Normally, SV would slip into this role with ease and the morning would fly by smoothly. This morning it wasn't to be. The junior lieutenant was distant and inattentive, almost uninterested, it seemed, and it put the whole lot on edge. By the time mid afternoon arrived, there were mixed feelings among the twelve about their last training before dinner. Whatever troubled their leader had something to do with the lieutenant. Would all that pent up aggression finally come to a head? They had seen the Son of Vader angry before. They had seen him enraged, livid, once murderous. Images of their previous lieutenant, JL5489, prostrated and drowning as his lungs filled with blood, plagued their minds. JL had been bigger than the junior lieutenant at the time- SV had grown since then. JL was stronger and older. He had more experience, and he was more stern with the Son of Vader than any other superior had dared.

SV1632 came out of that fight with broken ribs and a blaster wound to the shoulder, but he came out alive. He came out acting lieutenant. If SV decided he was fed up with their current commanding officer, AR0046 didn't stand a chance.

AR would supposedly be joining them from wherever he had been, and no one knew what to expect. Some said he had requested a transfer, or was filing a report to have the junior lieutenant removed from office; perhaps SV had already disposed of him and once again secured his position. Whatever the teenagers of sector S5 had expected, it wasn't at all what occurred. From that training on, nothing was the same.

 

Ben had been surprisingly calm, considering the insolence of his partner. Hux had no right to build walls between them- they were meant to be inseparable. Ben had simmered into a cool anger, too tame to be considered cold, but enough to be the forefront of his focus. He had allowed himself to be lost in thought most of the day, sorting through the parts of Hux's mind the lieutenant was too weak to close off. Hux was still mostly psy-null, and Ben knew enough about Jedi mind tricks to be able to cover his tracks. He could probe gently enough that no one Hux's level of sensitivity would feel it. In his snooping, Ben learned a few things.

In Armitage's head, only a handful of places were off limits to him: the place Armitage had put everything having to do with SV1632 and/or Ben Solo, for one. It was a deliberate shield; seeing what Armitage thought about him was clearly and distinctly prohibited. It was wrapped in a shield so thin, it was gift paper for what Ben wanted most to see. Despite the temptation, he didn't tear down the wall.

Another boundary surrounded last night and Hux's feelings, thoughts, and memories regarding the matter. No matter how hard he looked, Ben couldn't find a loose edge to pry at. It was wrapped tight to conceal his vulnerability in a shield so strong, he was certain Hux couldn't have forged it himself. It was a subconscious block that, likely, not even he was aware of. Interesting. Infuriating, because last night was what this whole drama was about. Unable to worm through the seams of the barrier, Ben moved on.

The last kink in the bond was something he hadn't sensed before and hadn't seen; Ben had no idea what it was, and he hated that. It was massive and deliberately tucked away, like Hux's thoughts on him. He had no idea what it could be. Leaving the box untouched cost more than he'd like to admit, knowing he could unleash it's contents so easily. He would see and know all of it someday, but that didn't sate his frustration.

Ben wanted to possess all of him, leave no stone unturned. It was only fair after everything Armitage had seen and felt, everything Ben didn't want him to know. Armitage had seen the darkest parts of him, the pieces of himself he was most deeply ashamed of. It wasn't fair for Hux to keep such secrets. He wouldn't stand for it.

There was too much hidden away for his comfort, but Ben turned his focus from what he couldn't use. What was available to his perusal were heaps upon heaps of violent ambition and greed, petty spats and finely crafted revenge that spanned over years. As he ventured deeper into his mind, Ben peered into that whirling cesspool and saw just how far the lieutenant was willing to go for what he wanted. He could see where Hux thought was his limit; he could also see where it truly fell. The two weren't as close as Hux probably thought. It seemed there was a lot of himself Ben’s neurotic redhead kept at bay, buried deeply and smothered by guilt and hysteria. Past the manic and the fear, there was shame, self-loathing, things Ben was more familiar with than he'd like. Even farther, at the center of the massive jumble of anxiety, fear, and crippling pride, there was something bound in the shadows.

It was black and large and spilling over, too much shoved in a container too small. The walls were reinforced and strong, another subconscious shield Ben longed to shatter. It's structure was foundational to his mental state. The box was law and rules and orders, and inside was every rebellious, self-righteous urge and desire Hux would never dare to pursue. The cage held back his true wants, his true ambitions, and his true fears.

Years ago, Ben had been that way, but the lieutenant always had to be different.

_Potential burns at his core, but the beast in him sleeps yet._

This was something Ben simply could not understand.

The cage in his subconscious was the cause of Hux's hesitation within the bond. Ben knew that without such boundaries and silly fears, there would be nothing stopping them from fulfilling their destiny. All of this flakey, noncommittal behavior and panic was due to the slumber of Hux's personal monster. His rules wouldn't allow him to accept who he really was.

Ben could free him and they'd finally achieve the unity he craved. There would be no more loneliness for either of them, no exclusion or rejection; no question they were meant to be. That was what Ben believed with all his heart. Hux was his and should be his and must be. There was no other way the world would turn. The darkness Ben saw here mirrored his own; Hux's potential was boundless. Ben just had to show him how far his passion could take him. This little rebellion would be over once and for all.

The guilt was there, nagging him that Armitage would be furious, that he would be hurt, but Ben pushed those thoughts away. He would be thankful, in the end. Armitage may not like the idea of it, but he would understand. If it didn't work at least he had put in an effort.

Ben felt the moment Hux set foot on the dock. It was easy enough to withdraw from the scape, keeping a mental map for the future. As he came closer, he felt the ripple rock him. He let it, and floated in the sea where Hux had left him so abruptly this morning, the waves choppy with his every step. In the waking world, their proximity registered as jolts through the bond that came at ever-increasing frequency. Finally, the shocks came close enough that the bond settled into a consistent vibration. It tingled and pinched all over, and he felt Armitage’s shiver of warmth in the cold winter air as though he had stepped into the heat of Cabin 1 himself. It was this exact moment, when they were close enough to sync within the bond, that Ben felt more in tune to the Force than ever. The storm of energy churned in the air all around him, charged with Hux’s tension and his own excitement, but Ben wasn't worried about the contradicting mix. He knew exactly where to push to get what he wanted. Hux would open to him fully, and not just someday. Tonight.

 

The S5 combat specialty unit made its way to the training dock in a timely fashion. As lax as Ben was, they knew better than to test his patience, and particularly on a day when he had been acting so unusual. The junior lieutenant himself was there early, and appeared to have been there a long time. He was flushed and already, the room was warm from exertion and smelled of sweat.

Ben hadn't wasted his burst of energy. His bangs were wet with exertion, grey sweatpants low on his hips and his training shirt dark and patchy with perspiration. He didn't bother to stop or slow as the others filed in; he had no interest in a traditional session. He had always found that following the flow of his intuition was best. Instead, Ben swept his hair back with a pin and continued sparring a practice droid. It had been a long time since he wielded a saber, but the Supreme Leader was sure to take his time, as he did everything. Unless Ben procured one for himself by magic, practice would have to do. For once, he went back to the exercises That Man had taught him. Skills in agility and dexterity for combat were some of the few benefits he received from his previous Master. So far, his current Master had been nearly as unavailable to him as the old one, and now that his dependence on the dark side itself was dwindling, Ben found himself even more restless at the Academy than before. What he aimed to accomplish today could very well put the nail in the coffin.

The shift in atmosphere upon the lieutenant’s arrival nearly cost Ben a uniform. The sabers weren't deadly on contact, but could easily injure with force; Tearing through cloth, no matter how thick, wouldn't exactly be difficult. It wasn't the lieutenant himself that was startling, but his aura. Armitage was colder than usual, not just in exterior, but everywhere. The bond was positively writhing and the power in it made Ben crave. Stars, it was good.

Tasting the richness of the Force in such potency was rejuvenating, and suddenly Ben was propelled faster, his reflexes sharper as the droid calibrated to match him. It wasn't nearly challenge enough. Ben was bored of it, and the thrill of those impassive blue eyes on him was so much more promising.

Ben didn't stop his bout until sufficient moments had passed for Hux to feel disrespected, but not insulted. He could feel him glaring; the arena was eerily quiet as though the other dozen spectators had simply evaporated. The silence persisted even as Ben powered the droid down and tossed- with pointed carelessness- his training blade to the ground. The look of incredulity turned steely resolve was well worth the effort.

Hux's tone was unusually sweet.

“Oh, I’m so sorry to distract you, sir. I'd hate to waste time the lieutenant put aside for training. You are the lieutenant, aren't you?"

His heart beat a little faster. Ben took his time kicking the weapon to the side and stretching, letting his hair loose and ruffling his fingers through it roughly before pinning it back again. His voice was carefully neutral. “Afraid not.”

“No?”

The innocent lit persisted. Armitage had taken a few steps closer, the only sign of his irritation his short nails cutting into the flesh of his palms. Ben stood his ground. His arms crossed over his chest, he looked down on his rival and saw Hux had just as little intention of backing down. He conceded. Hux was cute when he was mad.

Ben chuckled, concealing a grin, and leaned down to meet his eye-level. It was more than just condescending; he couldn't help the satisfaction in his tone. Armitage was playing games and, knowing what he knew now, Ben couldn't wait to contend with him without inhibitions.

“No, sir,” he purred. Ben watched the blush creep up his ears and down his neck and sampled victory. “I'm afraid I'm not your lieutenant. In fact, AR0046, you are mine.”

Check and mate. If he hadn't spent so much time memorizing those sculpted features, he wouldn't have caught the hesitance. Ben wouldn't have known the pride of making that heart stop for him. He wouldn't have the fulfillment of knowing the thought of belonging to someone, to him, to Ben, was enough to steal Hux's breath. Making Hux feel was something more sustaining than food, than water, than sleep. It was everything.

The declaration had taken its weight, but at some point, the ginger determined that that was enough of that. He lifted his chin and stood a little taller, looking at him down his nose. The sarcasm lost its domineering playfulness.

“I see. My mistake.” Every syllable was punched through his teeth, “You just had such little regard for anyone around you, I just assumed. Slip of the tongue.”

Ben prodded at his walls and recoiled at the stab that pushed him out. Armitage could have bit him; still, the walls were thinning.

_By the Force, he's in a mood,_ Ben thought as he stood to his full height again.

Someone so delicate required very specific care, but Ben didn't see any “fragile when handling” sticker on Hux. Nothing about this would be made easy for him. Ben would be as rough as he could get away with, and then he would watch him break. That part may not be the most fun, but as soon as Hux settled, they could really get down to business. Ben was so pleased at the idea, smiling was all he could do.

Hux watched him with outward disgust. He hadn't bothered with a hat on his way from Cabin 1, hair dark from the rain just like the day they met. His tracksuit was clean and pressed as usual over his sweater and pants, wet now, with collar crisp and shoes shined. Hux's entire body was tense in displeasure, and Ben was willing to bet at least a fourth of it was an act to conceal his alarm. His stance was wide and firm, classically difficult to dislodge.

S5 remained along the sidelines, some transfixed and others fidgeting and distracted as they awaited orders.

Meanwhile, Hux was starting to fester. Ben could see the telltale twitch in his hands, feel him pulling the bond taunt on his end. Ben only huffed a laugh and passed him, brushing his shoulder as he went. It was the closest he could get without outright pushing him. If Ben’s plan moved too fast, Armitage would catch on too soon. He'd realize Ben was working him up on purpose.

The contact resulted in the lieutenant grinding his teeth; this may be easier than he'd initially thought.

Ben continued to pointedly ignore him. He addressed the group as though the lieutenant wasn't there. “Sector S5 at attention,” he called.

The boys moved quickly, anxious to do something, anything. Their energy was manic and poorly contained. Where Armitage had to threaten and intimidate to accomplish anything, all Ben had to do was say the word and it was done. They trusted him. Liked him. Respected him. Where Hux would normally interject and resume control, he woukd wait this once. Ben was up there something, it was just a question of what. AR took deep, controlled breaths in an attempt to settle himself; it did no good. He watched the goliath of a junior lieutenant pace slowly along the lineup and back again, making eye contact with each of his troops.

“Evaluations are coming up,” Ben said. “and we should all know what that entails. Has everyone here gone through at least one evaluation?”

His tone was so carefully impartial it made Hux want to throttle him. Why was he suddenly so reasonable? Why was Ben the one restoring order when he had initiated chaos in the first place? To know he had been capable of such a thing all this time made Hux want to scream.

One boy swallowed his obvious nervousness and saluted. “Here, sir.”

Ben stopped and turned on his heel, gliding across the floor in long strides.

“This would be your first time through the process?”

The poor kid was shivering. He was new, a transfer. One had moved out, another, in.

“Yes sir. The Combat Specialty District does their evaluations very differently than the other districts. This will be my first experience within the port of base.”

Ben looked him up and down, unimpressed. He raised a brow.

“You transfer from academics?”

“Biochemistry, sir. I studied under-”

Ben scoffed and the boy fell silent. “Of course.” He glanced back at Hux, then said, addressing no one, “Send me another Filler to put up with.”

Filler was a term for the study hall junkies so fixated on school, they burned themselves right out of the Academy. They were know-it-alls and overachievers who, when put to the test, stalled out and were completely useless. They were the people no one wanted, names used to take the empty space on a roll. They filled in until someone worth keeping in a sector took their place. Hux was more than familiar with it himself, but he hadn't been called that in a long time. He was surprised it still stung.

Ben was still picking on the transfer.

"Sir, I promise, I'll work really hard-"

“Talk less, DE8736. We'll get more done that way.”

Hux scowled and looked away as the unit suppressed sniggers, the subject of attention going red with embarrassment and shame. The students went quiet and Ben moved on, the image of professionalism.

“Evaluations are sector specific tests that reflect on the whole dock. If we do well, there's potential for promotion in the future. Perform poorly, and everyone's stuck here. Got it?”

There was communal agreement. Ben could see they were itching to start, and briefly wondered why. Usually, late training was harder to rally them. They were tired, hungry, and frustrated with their classes, but today the energy was at a new height from the start. He didn't understand it, but was grateful. Meanwhile, Armitage stewed behind him; Ben could feel his glare boring into his back. The bond was gradually growing louder as Hux's wall between them began wearing down. So far, so good. It took all his self control not to smile. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.

Under Ben's instruction, the boys paired off and picked up their practice blades. These were the potential candidates of the Knights of Ren, after all. As unlikely as it seemed now, at least three of the students Ben swept his gaze over would make it to the semi-final, perhaps final, cut. They wouldn't be picked, though. Ben would be the one inductee selected from the combat division- he simply wouldn't allow any other outcome.

Each pair was already vigorously attacking each other before Ben could even explain or demonstrate. It was odd. They hardly ever acted without instruction, and especially not all at once. Ben furrowed his brow, distracted from his plot for the moment. He opened his mouth to bark a reprimand. That was when Hux swept in, and the water crashed against the shore and the storm was over them both.

Hux's sudden release into the bond was overwhelming to him, over and under and around Ben until he was swallowed up in the Force they made together, caught up in the power that was _them_. Ben had been blindsided, for once, and Hux was in control.

He pushed him. Ben felt his nimble hands on his chest and pressure and then he was stumbling, barely catching his balance as he came to himself.

“You _idiot_ ,” Hux spat. “You think I don't know what you're trying to do?”

Ben was still reeling a bit but he shook it off, the bond buzzing and cracking lightning in his ears. “What?”

“You really think I couldn't tell? I knew it. I knew and I fell for you anyway and it was a mistake, and now you think you can just waltz into my position and woo me out of it come evaluation, and let me tell you-”

“Wait, wait,” Ben stopped him with a hand and gathered his thoughts. They were in center of a flurry of swords with overly aggressive wielders, and the stars in the water were slowly coming to glow again. Armitage looked livid.

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

Ben bypassed that fairly easily; he wasn't sure what exactly Hux was referring to. There were a lot of things Ben had done that he could be upset over. He was quiet too long.

"Well?"

“You fell for me?”

Armitage flushed pink and, snarling, replied, “ _It was a mistake._ ”

He ignored that, too.

“But you did. You feel the same way I do.” Ben simply looked past all that rage and straight into the potential. He had known all along Hux returned his convictions. There was no need for revenge plots or suicide; Hux felt the same, he just needed to be shown.

The ginger in question was about to snap. Hux was quieter now, talking more to himself than Ben. He started to walk out of the throng of simulated warfare to exit the training facility.

“This never should have happened. I'm not supposed to even be here, and you made up this _thing_  in my head to manipulate me and I just watched you do it! And now you think you can just confess some stupid feelings to me and I'll just-” and then Ben dragged him back again. He couldn't leave, not now. The relief of having Hux close was short lived, because as soon as he had turned around, the lieutenant pushed him again, harder, and when Ben stumbled back in surprise, Hux came at him again.

“I don't- understand how- I could have ever- believed- you,” the words came with blows to his chest, half hearted and half hysterical. Ben hardly felt them, of course. While he'd experienced vividly what his punch was like in the library, this was just a fit. The surface of their ocean was tumultuous and angry, and the storm was mixed up and confused; Ben tried to tune him out. He didn't know what he was saying, didn't mean it-

“-felt sorry for you! You've probably never cared about anyone in your life, much less-”

And Armitage was on the ground.

It hadn't been a conscious response, but a reaction. He released the Force grip immediately, but then Armitage tripped him and suddenly, they were fighting.

While Armitage fought to punish, Ben fought to stay calm. This was what he wanted, he reminded himself. He was open and vulnerable and angry, Ben could just reach inside and push a little harder-

Ben came back to himself to dodge a hit that could have done damage. He hit back, pushed, made him work for it, but Ben himself restrained himself by more than half. He had to maintain control, or it really would be just like the temple. He would hurt people he cared about all over again, and not just one, but many. If Ben lost his head, he'd level the whole dock. He would let gravity drag it into the ocean where so many students had already lost their lives, and no matter how much he wanted, it would be just like before. He knew Snoke wouldn't let him die.

Another hit, this time one that landed. A knee to the stomach. Ben put him on the ground again and held him as he kicked viciously, more difficult to restrain than Ben anticipated. He had to double his own strength with the Force just so Armitage wouldn't throw him.

The bond was a haze of red and the lieutenant was lost in it, willing to do anything to get at Ben and cause pain. He bit and pushed and twisted as much as he could, but Ben was strong.

_I hate him. I hate him I hate him I_

Ben ventured past the fallen walls and spilled boxes. He wanted to see what was inside, what Hux had hidden, but there wasn't time. Every moment he spent here was another moment Hux could regain control in the physical world, another moment he could find his way out of the rage. Ben had gone in far enough that the chorus of thoughts spilling out and over had changed tune.

_I hate- He hurt me he hurt me I let him he hurt me he-_

Armitage wiggled one wrist free, the one with less body weight holding it in place. Ben was too slow. He hooked his arm around his neck and pulled him down for leverage, pushing up with his hips and then his feet and before Ben could stop it, they had switched roles. Ben, only half present, could only block and dodge. Distantly, there was pain in his arms and chest; he couldn't address it now.

He was close, the hurricane chaos much easier to navigate than the hoarded attic of before. The anxiety was small now, overwhelmed. He watched the anger bleed into pain and pain into, finally, black. Ben knew he had found the right place by the sudden quiet, the stillness. The thoughts here were drifting whispers, light and soft enough to weave into the forefront of Hux's mind whenever they wanted. Dark enough to stain the good things, dark enough to ruin.

_-to him. A toy. A tool. You are nothing to him. You are nothing to anyone. You are nothing. You are worthless. You are destined for failure. Why don't you give up?_

_Why keep up the charade? You know it's true._

_Everyone knows. They're laughing._

_Just give up._

_You want to give up._

I want to give up.

_I am nothing._

The cage was wrought with Cannot and Will Not and Have To; It Doesn't Matter What You Want made up the lock. Ben reached in between the bars that breathed Unworthy and Hopeless into his ears. Those weren't his thoughts; he batted them away.

There were hands around his neck and they were squeezing and there was pain. He was in the thick of the scape now, helpless against any attack. Ben could see it, he could break out of the meditative state with enough focus, but Armitage would never be vulnerable enough to let him in again. He ignored the fog creeping up on him and reached in, in, in until he felt a cold so bright and sharp it made him want to pull back. Ben had him.

_Wake up. I'm here._

There was a faint stirring, a recognition. Ben kept trying. His sight in the waking world was blurring and it became difficult to hold onto his body, but still, he coaxed the beast.

_You're not alone._

_You know you don't belong here_.

_I will be here when you break the lock._

Ben felt a burning, his brain starving for oxygen. The icy sensation enveloped his hand and slunk up his arm. The cage stopped at Ben's shoulder, though, and it could go no further. What could only be described as a whine pierced through the black and shuddered the cage, displeased and breathing for itself.

_Again. You have to open it yourself. I can help you climb out, but you have to let me in first._

Ben was tempted to pull back his arm when the contents of the box began moving more rigorously. The bars vibrated; a sudden earnestness pushed hard against the confines.

_Again._

The whine quieted and the shaking stopped as abruptly as it began, the coldness slinking down and off of him. Ben panicked. He grabbed and held on tight. He was dying for this- Ben was dying for him as Armitage was killing him and he was giving up. The moments passed like years.

_No!_

It pulled back, fought to be free of his hold. Ben grasped tighter.

_I won't let you go. You have to try. I'm telling you that you have to, that you need to-_

The ice pulled and slammed him against the cage so hard he flicked back to waking and returned to darkness in a flash of light. There was pain now. True pain, more than discomfort, but the impact of the collision had cracked Unworthy in half. Ben pulled away with all his fading strength and the burn of it was agonizing.

_Again, Armitage._

And again the white pain dragged him to it with exceptional force, breaking through Inadequate and Responsible respectively. This was the fire of the bond, the ice and heat and shock and light; this was the lightning and the thunder, the grief. This was the need, and Ben felt it trying to consume him, trap him inside. It was a wail now, agonizing yet calm and loud, though it's echoes whispered softly. It was every voice and emotion and sound. Armitage was everywhere. He was everywhere, and he was afraid.

_I can’t but I want but I can't and stay I want you to stay I don't want you to leave me don't leave me don't-_

 

Ben couldn't resist him any longer. Armitage pulled him in, to keep him, and the waking world started to feel too far away. The thought was faint, a last try.

_It's not leaving if you come with me._

It was his mother that stung him with a voice so firm, it started his heart.

  
_Benjamin Solo, don't you_ dare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoooooo boy this is dysfunctional
> 
> when you journal?¿? your depression??? through angsty space children??¿?


	8. Lazarus Rising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The answer to the question of who we were, who we are, and who we become can be as simple as knowing your name.
> 
> ie. the one where we get some answers and hux needs a hug; ben might need an exorcism. snoke ships it.

Armitage stilled, his heart racing and his limbs suddenly boneless and numb. Ben was under him. His throat was red and getting redder and Armitage felt like he was out of his body, watching Ben's breath come softer and softer. This was wrong. The twelve members of unit S5 had long since stopped their training to watch the fight with rapt attention. Their eyes were wide and astounded, as though faced with an impossible reality. He didn't have the presence of mind to correct them.

The nagging thing in his head that had nested and made a home just for Ben was getting harder to reach. It was distracting, having to search so diligently for him when he'd always been so available before. They were touching. Their skin was in contact, his hands were cupping Ben's face and combing through his hair and Ben was breathing but he wasn't there. Armitage couldn't feel anything, no pressure, no warmth, no fire or ice between them. There was just human flesh to human flesh, with its usual glamor. He reached as much as he could, tried to concentrate until he was red in the face, but Ben just wasn't there. Where did he go? He promised, didn't he? He promised he would stay, that he wouldn't leave. Armitage couldn't remember when, couldn't recall the words, but he felt the betrayal so acutely that it didn't matter. Why wasn't it working? Why couldn't Ben hear him?

He called his name again and again, but it only sounded like a thought.

The dreamscape was white when he looked. There was nothing. The world Ben had showed him was lost. The lightning and the thunder and the storm and the spark, the light and the black water and the never ending stars, it was all gone. Armitage felt himself grasping for something, anything, but there was nothing save the slow rise and fall of the body below him, gradually less shallow. There was nothing to ground him planetside but his own hands twisting in that dark hair.

There was nothing.

“PF0740.” His voice was hoarse and small. “Until SV1632 recovers from his injuries, you will be acting junior lieutenant, is this understood?”

There was murmuring behind him, around him, and Armitage was barely keeping himself together, the parts of him that he could find, at least. His tone was sharper, and the room grew tense.

“Is this understood?”

Someone said something and people went places, left, it didn't matter. Armitage couldn't tear his attention away for even a moment. Ben's eyelashes fluttered but it was a twitch. There were only echoes in his head. If he woke up, Armitage would know, if he woke up- If.

Slowly, his own body was catching up to him. He was sore from the wall and the floor and the impressions of Ben's kisses still on his skin beneath his clothes and he was so tired and Ben was gone as though he'd never been. He was right here, Armitage was holding him, could feel him breathing, and yet they were so far apart. How could he have pushed him away? How did he bear to block him out for even as long as a day? Ben was really out of his mind now, the nest was empty, and this was what he'd asked for and hated him for and now Armitage had it. For once, he got what he wanted. He was alone. All he could do was weep for the loss of a gift unreceived and unappreciated.

Normally, when Armitage really needed to cry, he couldn't. The barrier that would have stopped him was nowhere to be found, however, and the tears came before he was prepared for them. One they started, they wouldn't stop and he couldn't stop because what if none of it had been real at all? What if the whole thing was just a dream, as he'd somehow convinced himself so often? Armitage unclasped his hands and smoothed his hair. Trembling with so light a touch, his fingertips danced faintly along Ben's jaw and down the sides of his agitated neck, further to his collar and his chest. It hadn't been a dream. He wasn't nearly creative enough anyway. His own mind could never conjure something as strong and arrogant and incessant and infuriating and broken and wonderful as Ben. Armitage could feel his heart beating steadily under his hands. He pressed his ear to it and focused on the rhythm, the roar of blood the closest he could get to the sound of the bond, back and forth like the tide. His own heart ached after the warmth that didn't come to welcome him. The bond had been the only constant in all the madness. Now, the beat against his ears was all he could hear. The slow, deep breaths he matched in time.

Armitage lie like that, pressed flush to Ben with his head over his heart and his whole body trying to pull closer, impossibly closer to shores he could no longer see. Instead, Armitage saw other things. His hands idly traced bits of Ben that, somehow, he'd never noticed before, not really. Ben's hands were large and clumsy, like the rest of him, and he had a burn on the right one that the lieutenant kissed reverently. He spread their fingers together and, of course, Ben's practically dwarfed him. They were about the same, really, but his own hands were made for finer things than the rough and tumble that Ben was clearly built for. It made him feel small. He had moles on his arms, on his face and neck, and he hadn't thought to map them out. Ben had done so with his own beauty marks, as difficult as he had been about it. Ben had taken all the time in the world to see and administer attention to every part of him he'd thought unseemly, from freckles to burns to scars. He saw, now, and felt so much he had taken advantage of before. Ben's ears didn't look awful anymore. His nose wasn't awkward and his brow wasn't too strong and his lips weren't too full and his hair wasn't too long. He was Ben, and there was so much of him Armitage had chosen to ignore and spite. He wouldn't any longer. His list would be of things he should have spent more time on, things he should have loved. It was astoundingly the same: the way Ben's eyes crinkled when he was up to something, his goofy grin when he was found out, the way he blushed and avoided eye contact when Armitage caught him looking from across the mess hall. Sometimes, Ben wanted to be seen; Armitage's favorite times, he decided, were the ones when he didn't.

He kept skin to skin contact between them no matter how he moved or where he shifted his attention. In a distant hope the spark would come back, Armitage didn't dare part from him. He would die first.

Armitage nestled into his chest and, eventually, relaxed enough to hide his face. Anyone could sneak up on him. He wasn't looking, anyone could do anything, but Ben was here. Part of him. Whatever was left would keep him safe. He had to believe it, no matter how silly it was, if he ever wanted to stop crying.

Ben was breathing full and steady, as though taking a well-deserved rest. The storm was quiet outside, a blizzard that became rain just as the drops hit the ground. The clouds carried no thunder nor lightning. His hands were wrapped in Ben's shirt, holding onto him like an anchor. Without Ben, he'd just float away. He was certain of it. Armitage closed his eyes tight and tried to dream, listening close to the rhythm of their hearts beating together. Faintly, he thought he tasted copper, but that may have been wishful thinking.

 

\-----------

 

The water wasn't black. It wasn't cold, either. All was red and gold around him and gliding across his skin like silk and he didn't understand. Above him, the color cleared and saw sunlight. Ben could make out the sphere of blinding light as its beams cut through the water, casting its all-seeing eye on him, on all he had ever hidden and hated and loved. Below him, Ben saw the churning darkness full of monsters and murderers and thoughts that would snake inside him and steal his control, whispering sweet promises of nothing as they tore him apart to feed. Here, in the middle, was red like blood and bird's feathers and gold like sunflowers where the light touched, gold like his parents’ wedding rings.

Ben couldn't say how he knew, but he had a choice to make. His philosophies were crooked. The Force had never been black and white, had never been neutral or grey. The Force was life of every kind, and in no form was there silence. It was all an array of colors, of golds and reds and blues and greens. The variety didn't stop existing because he couldn't see it.

Now he had to choose either clear water and light and no secrets, or ink and darkness and pretty lies. He had tasted darkness before. Ben had been gouged out and his insides scoured by greedy hands and mouths and taking, taking, taking. He hadn't been able to see or feel for himself and it had been someone else's power wielded by someone else's hand and it was so easy. It had hurt so badly.

Ben had seen clear water, and it was only him there, but when he looked, he could see too much. With his own sight, he was horrified and overwhelmed by the strips and chunks and halfs of him stolen by the black water. Ben could see himself and just how ugly he was, just how ravaged and pitiful and it was so difficult. There was no hiding, and it hurt so badly.

The limbo was fading and he had to go, had to choose. The in between was getting smaller and smaller and he could see it and he didn't move. Light or dark, true or not, both were pain and cages. The darkness kept him captive; in the light, he locked himself in. Only one of these provided him a key.

Time was up and he had to choose his prison.

Ben reached skyward.

Black teeth closed around his ankle and dragged him under. All at once he was blind and bound and his choice was taken.

 _I know what you really are,_ the whispers said, and they were laughing and cruel.

_A monster, Kylo._

He couldn't speak; when he opened his mouth, the hands pried him open and tore down his throat and pain and sorry and a burst of blood in his mouth but no comfort. Armitage was gone.

 _Kylo, Kylo,_ and their voices were sweet like his mother and father and Master and friends and they were lies but- _Kylo, dear Kylo, dear, dear, dear._

They took his voice and it was Armitage, but it couldn't be, couldn't be, couldn't be true.

_You're a monster._

He looked in the dark, but there were no stones to guide him, no light. There was nothing. He was alone.

It was his own voice.

_That's all you'll ever be._

It was true.

  


The ceiling was plexiglass and snow and his body was heavy. He blinked slowly and frowned, trying to make sense of his surroundings. Cold, Kamino. Soft floor. Training dock. Sore all over, pain, hurts to swallow, hurts to breathe.

Warm. Look- what is it? Hair that's red and shines gold and small hands and white eyelashes he could count. Warm and wrapped around him, as close as possible, shuddering and tears and what's wrong? Concern.

Hands on his face and in his hair but these are soft. Eyes blue and tender and sad and scared and happy. Talking to him, babbling. Can't understand the words. Listen harder.

Try to move. Hurts. Lips on his cheeks, his forehead, over his eyes. They're soft, too. Warm again, warm always.

He's brought up to sitting and his body doesn't want to move. Move it anyway. See the tears and decipher the jumble of words. Can't. Nonsense. He can't understand.

Being touched now, so touch back, imitate. Arms around him, legs around him, holding and holding and tears wet his shoulder. Respond- how? Hold back and feel the breathing, listen. Feel the warmth and the sadness and the tears but don't cry. Don't have a reason to.

Talking again. Can't understand- nonsense. Scared. What's happening?

Stop crying- can't. Lost.

Hold tighter and don't let them see.

 

\---------

 

It wasn't necessarily the plan, not at all, but he could work with it. It was effective enough and served his purposes. Ben Solo was dead. Kylo would take his place: impressionable, powerful, malleable, and at his disposal.

The Hux boy was a wreck, and the Supreme Leader could understand. Broken bonds had killed those stronger than him, infinitely stronger. Snoke wondered how he had survived at all, in fact. Even if he had lived, and he clearly had, not even powerful Force-users had retained so much so quickly, if at all. He was psy-null. He was supposed to be dead, or at the very least, a vegetable.

He should have been physically incapable of handling the Force in such potency. Solo was the most powerful conduit of raw energy Snoke had seen to date; any Force link that channelled through a psy-null brain, especially in a direct route to Ben, of all people, should have literally blown the boy apart. Being torn from it should have rendered him brain-dead in seconds.

Instead, this Armitage Hux was very much breathing, mentally present, and appeared to have suffered minor if any physical consequences. Snoke could even feel him reaching with the Force, pushing feebly at his shields. He must be very strong, for someone untrained. The Supreme Leader should have had to put forth significant effort to sense his signature at all. Instead, the boy registered as a gentle poke, earnest, but pitiful. Despite being harmless, Armitage Hux was still sensitive and resisting the walls Snoke had placed. That took commendable will.

The First Order may find use for him yet.

Snoke was there the very moment that obscuring light flickered out. Ben wasn't dead, not yet, and if Snoke hadn't interfered, the bond would have come roaring back, stronger than before. It was the moment between waking and not that counted most; he kept Solo dreaming as long as possible.

The Force was letting him decide for himself, as it did everyone in tune enough to see, and Snoke waited for his apprentice to come to him. In his own time, the decision had been easy. Snoke expected the same; he knew Ben well and expected his hesitation. The limbo was passing- he would return any moment.

Ben reached for the light.

Whatever had happened within that bond, that place Snoke was unable to see, had changed him drastically. Where he had been devoted, he now sought independence. All the work Snoke had put into breaking Ben to his will, twisting him into the instrument he needed, had been undone. Given the choice, Ben held to his roots as a traitor and rebelled against all he knew and trusted. So be it. Solo wouldn't live to betray him again.

Snoke dragged him, screaming, into the darkness where he belonged.

Ben was trapped within his mind, barricaded from control by heavy shields and bonds of Snoke’s own design. It wasn't exactly a do-over, but his apprentice was a more or less clean slate. There was little purpose to waiting any longer. It was time to begin his training, and while he was at it, see if there was anything he could do with the desperate little harlot his apprentice had left behind. The Force had seen fit to touch his mind, though it was a tad late to start anything serious. Now that he was in the center of it, perhaps a bonding wouldn't be so inconvenient if between people he controlled.

Snoke decided to keep the shield up. He wanted to see how long this late-bloomer would hold out. How long would it take for Hux to give up? How long before he accepted that Solo simply couldn't hear him; how long before he reasoned that he was completely unremarkable and the whole thing was a fantasy? Snoke was eager to see if he would give in at all. Ben certainly hadn't, not even after all Snoke had done to crush his spirit. Clearly, they were of similar cloth; the Force itself had determined their compatibility. All of the General’s scheming may have had some merit after all. His son may yet have a chance at Snoke’s left hand, Kylo at his right. With both at his beck and call, their forces could be unstoppable. Such plots could wait, however. Armitage Hux hadn't impressed him yet.

For now, he would allow his fledgling Kylo Ren to ease into his own body, slowly wake. He would leave them be for now and watch how things developed. Snoke was unfamiliar with the Hux child. He was uncertain how the two would interact, especially since it was by Hux's hand that Snoke had taken Ben Solo’s life. They would be together, by force if necessary, until Evaluation. He would see their partnership, should any part of it be salvaged and useful. Then, Snoke would take them both.

 

\---------

 

He was so different now; they both were, but Ben especially- Kylo. That had been a confusing transition, perhaps more than other things. Somehow, changing the name that went with the face made it more real for him. When SV1632 became Ben, it was like meeting someone new. Ben becoming Kylo was the same. It was made more distinct by his voice, lower and more somber. The way Kylo talked was different, too, slowly if at all, but profound and to the point. They had to listen to each other more closely, though Kylo did most of that. He seldom spoke unprompted. Hux talked for both of them.

The way they touched was different. They had to seek out comfort, conjure it for themselves. Those parts of Ben he'd been blind to, he discovered in Kylo, from the shape of his mouth to his fingernails, uneven from biting. Everything interaction now held so much more weight. When they slept, they dreamed alone, if at all.

It was much harder for Hux to adjust than Kylo; Kylo hadn't lost anything. The storm was gone, but he still had black water at his fingertips. Now, if he drowned, Hux would have to watch.

Hux remembered those clouds on the horizon. He remembered how it felt to be struck by and through lightning, swept off in a daze as his body stuttered to keep up with his mind. Kylo, it seemed, didn't remember at all. There were no glowstones at the bottom of his ocean.

 _It's only black water,_ Kylo had said once. _What else is there?_

A medidroid had to treat him for as long as three days. It turned out strangulation had more adverse effects than Hux had thought. The red haze that blinded him was long gone, but still, Hux wondered after it. He had felt so out of control; most of the event was a blur, up until the very end. Something in him broke, and Ben was unconscious and maybe dead and Hux couldn't find a reason to reign himself in.

Since, he hadn't had any anxiety attacks or fits of paranoia. Armitage felt perfectly, horribly normal, and so much of him was missing that he could die. He wouldn't die, though, because while Kylo wasn't Ben, he was so much better than nothing. If he'd just disappeared altogether, Hux would have lost his mind trying to find him. He would have killed himself trying to prove that any of it was real. Kylo wasn't Ben, but he was the closest he would get to filling the gaping emptiness in his head. Kylo was his only hope.

So, without preamble, standard conduct between lieutenants and their seconds were cast to the wind. Kylo moved out of the S5 cabins and in with Armitage. He was quieter now, even in the way he moved as though he didn't want to be seen. He didn't smile the same, it was small and fleeting, and he rarely laughed. The banter Hux had complained about for so long had ceased entirely. Granted, parts of Ben had been reserved before, but Kylo didn't even read anymore. At any given time, his attention drifted from Hux to the still, white sea. When he turned to the lieutenant again, he looked so lost and confused, as though just waking from a dream. When he saw him like that, Hux could cry. Sometimes he did. Kylo didn't, not after the first time. Hux couldn't even tell if he wanted to. He never thought to ask, never thought Kylo would understand.

Meals were silent; trainings were firm and direct and his orders went unquestioned. No one on the dock dared challenge him now. Hux had taken down the one they most respected and feared. He hadn't killed him, but he'd broken him in like a wild animal. SV1632 obeyed his every word. That was what he was supposed to do, after all, and like Phasma had promised, the unit had followed their leader's example. It didn't matter how confused he was, or how distant; the fog in Kylo’s mind only cleared when his focus settled on Hux. It rushed back again when he tried to think of anything else, so he tried not to wander. When he fumbled just a little, when his thoughts were too complex, the water closed over him and the world was dark. Kylo lost hours like that, drifting away as he scrambled to take hold of something, anything. Hux was there, always, to bring him back again. He would feel his hand on his shoulder or his arm or his face or his leg and Kylo held on for dear life until he could see the waking world again.

Life only made sense when they were together, and so they never parted for anything. Hux brought him to class. He let Kylo play with his hair during study hours. They held hands in the halls, laced their fingers in all different ways. They would whisper to one another, looking like one of those couples they'd always hated. Contact was necessary to keep Kylo grounded and Armitage sane; without it, the overwhelming nothingness stretched across kilometers and planets and lightyears. It took a long time to close that distance again.

A spiritual bond was impossible, so the physical was all they had left. There were still places that were Ben's- Armitage couldn't bear to connect with him that way. It felt wrong, wasn't the same. The thought tasted like betrayal. Looks and murmurs and hands had to be enough. If Kylo wouldn't talk, they had to communicate in other ways.

Kylo was quiet and obedient and attentive. He stayed out of the way. He never took matters into his own hands. He hung on his every word as though it were a lifeline- salvation. Armitage could only hold him closer, and think how foolish he had been to ask for this.

 

The little blue bottles came to his door once every few days. Armitage didn't have time or patience to deal with Phasma, so he didn't. His qualms over the deal in the past seemed trivial. They could do anything to him. Nothing Phasma or the Order could ever do would be worse than this. Knowing that, lacing the sector's food with Camidryline was a simple and routine affair. If Hux and Kylo were to stay together in any capacity, successful evaluations were non-negotiable. Phasma had nothing to dangle over him anymore; as far as he was concerned, he was doing her a favor. He had already very pointedly outed his relationship with the notorious SV1632, who, to outsiders, appeared suddenly very tame and studious. It seemed to many that AR0046 had changed him. They had no idea how right they were.

Ben had been brilliant and ambitious. He was a loose cannon, but a good leader and a passionate fighter. When he wanted to be, he could even be charming. Promotion, for him, was inevitable. Kylo, Armitage was less sure of. He hadn't come out of his shell yet, and Armitage couldn't say definitively what he was capable of. He loved him, but he didn't understand him.

This person in Ben’s body, whoever he was, was all Hux had left of someone who hadn't taken advantage of him. He could have, so easily, but instead he'd let him in, let Hux save him, too. Hux hoped with everything in him that his second, his right hand, his best friend, would return from wherever he had gone. Until then, Kylo was his responsibility.

 

He first met Kylo Ren just over a week after the incident, ten days since Hux had insisted they be parted as little as possible, ten days since he'd woken up. It was an off day, a weekend, and they were in bed. Hux leaned against the headboard, Kylo’s head in his lap. His fingers carded gently through his hair as he read. Kylo had been frowning in concentration, staring at a point on the wall.

Hux had one of Ben's books in hand, an autobiography of his grandfather, and was smiling at the scribbles of notes and corrections that filled the pages. Phrases like _show me ONE person that thinks that was his fault_ and _like you wouldn't be angry if you were enslaved for 11 years_ lined the margins in small, choppy handwriting, and sometimes, they made him laugh. He could see Ben rolling his eyes and scoffing, writing a note and throwing the book aside, annoyed. He would have shaken his head and twirled his pen, the only person Hux had seen that preferred physical utensils. He would have tried to tell Hux all about it through the bond, his energy playful and warm. Hux would do his best not to listen.

His hand stayed in Kylo’s hair. Hux shut the book.

“I don't know why you keep doing that,” Kylo said gruffly. He looked up at him with those brown eyes and Hux couldn't meet them, frowned instead. Kylo repeated himself when he didn't answer, firmly now. “Why do you do it?”

Kylo had never demanded anything before. Hux spared him a glance. Kylo had turned on his side and leaned on an elbow, a determined look on his face. His heart caught in his throat, and Kylo said, again, slowly, “Armitage, why do you read those books when you know they'll upset you?”

He sat up as he waited for Hux's answer, considered his deer-in-headlights expression. They sat across from one another now, on equal levels. Hux knew intuitively that he would not ask again.

“I don't know.”

His voice cracked with emotion and he hated it, hated himself. His words were a whisper, but they were true. He missed him- missed Ben. He had him in journals, in holofeeds, in books, in dreams. He used to have him in real life, too, but it was too late for that. It was too late to tell him the truth and no book or memory would bring him back. It was stupid- he didn't know why he did it, but he couldn't stop. Hux had ruined his chance, ruined everything and he wished the guilt would just crush him.

He felt tears welling up, but he didn't want to cry, didn't understand why he could feel all of these things only after Ben was gone. It wasn't fair. Ben had torn down a wall inside him and now Hux was open. He was open, and he didn't know how to close up again. It wasn't fair.

Kylo was still looking at him with intense observation, calculating, piecing things together. Ben would have comforted him, or tried to in his own awkward way, with a joke or something Hux would spite him for. Kylo just watched as though he'd expected no less. Hux was wiping his eyes rashly and forcing his breath to calm when Kylo spoke again.

“I know I'm not what you want me to be,” he murmured lowly, and his expression was dark and brooding. There was no hope in it. “I know that whatever you want, I don't know how to give.”

He was always so serious, straight faced or frowning or concerned. Kylo felt something missing, sensed a void he couldn't fill on his own. They were touching even now, Kylo almost unconsciously running his knuckles up and down, up and down the lieutenant’s calf. He didn't know why he did that, why he felt so compelled to touch him and need his approval and care and it made him angry. He growled to the air, eyes on the book Hux had put aside so gently, handled with more care than with him. Loved more than him.

“You don't want it from me. You don't think I can, but if I did, you wouldn't want it then. I'm not what you want and you don't want me to change. You don't want me to try, you don't think I can even do it. You want me gone. You want Ben instead and I can't be him. I don't know how.”

Hux was unsure what “it” he was so convinced of, but the general idea was shamefully accurate. He wanted Ben. He wanted this Kylo character to go away and give him back the person he needed, the person who deserved so much more than what Hux had to offer. He had ignored Kylo, who he was. He didn't make an attempt to get to know him, not really. He held the place of someone he loved and Kylo could tell. He was upset. Of course he was upset.

Kylo could change everything about himself, and Hux would only ever see what he wasn't. Kylo was right here and Ben was gone. He wasn't coming back.

Kylo was here, and Hux was squandering him.

“You don't have to be anyone you don't want to be,” Hux assured in a tentative tone. Kylo licked his teeth. “What I want shouldn't determine who you are, Kylo. Don't give me that much power. I don't deserve it.”

The room was quiet for a long time; Hux was holding his breath. Something small, a rapid beat in his chest and anticipation, warmed him inexplicably. It was the closest he'd felt to the bond in what seemed like years, the wanting, the waiting, the nerves. Kylo caught his eye again, and held it. He felt like a insect pinned to a table, squirming, until he spoke.

“I don't know why you matter so much to me. You shouldn't. You're right, you don't deserve it.” His words were taunt with bitterness that made Hux ache. Kylo kept the grief out of his voice, but the rolling hate spilled through in its place. It made Hux look away from him; it made Kylo angrier.

“You tolerate me. Sometimes you give me all your attention, but then you take it away and you fixate on _him_ and I realize, over and over and over, I'm nothing to you but a body. I may as well be empty. I may as well be dead.”

“Kylo, I-” and then he went on, nearing emotion, nearing the pain he resented. He felt it so deeply, so much, and it was heartbreak that didn't belong to him. It wasn't fair.

“I know he was in this body. He loved you, I can feel it, and it hurts so much not being able to-” Kylo took a breath. He shook his head and turned away, put his head in his hands and sighed deeply. Kylo didn't know. He didn't ask for any of this, didn't ask to feel these phantom emotions, phantom pains. He hated it, hated Hux, hated everything, but there was too much space between them now and Kylo got that itch again. He needed him closer when all Kylo wanted was space. It was the worst feeling in the universe.

Armitage was having a hard time wrapping his head around all of this. Kylo had said more now than he had in the whole week. He had clearly been thinking about it a lot. It baffled Armitage that what plagued those eyes was more than just confused isolation. He hadn't really thought about what Kylo felt before, had just assumed he was empty. The guilt for hurting Ben was trumped, suddenly. What he'd done to Kylo was so much worse.

He had pulled away, and Hux understood that. He wouldn't want to be near himself either, if that were a choice. It felt wrong to be separated, though. Even if they never spoke again, Hux felt that he needed him- not just Ben, but Kylo, too. And Kylo was here. He was right here, and he wanted to- please Hux, it sounded like. Kylo hadn't exactly said.

He wanted his attention. He wanted his praise and approval. He felt overlooked, unimportant, used- that had shame burning hot in his face. Force, what kind of person was he?

The itch persisted, but Kylo wouldn't be the one to give in. He wouldn't ask, and he wouldn't concede by being the first to reach across the divide. He had nothing to apologize for. Of the two of them, Hux needed him so much more. It was time Kylo stood and spoke for himself. He had thoughts and feelings and wants- he wasn't a walking gravestone. He wouldn't be made to feel like it.

Moments passed like years and months and days and they were both getting fidgety, the lieutenant with his tapping fingers and Kylo with his worried lip. The tension was giving Armitage a headache; Kylo wanted to break something. Someone had to give, so it may as well be him. Hux tried to catch his eye; no luck. He'd never been good with apologies, didn't know how to give one. He'd never received one himself. With Phasma for a friend, there was too much to be sorry about. It was easier to just not be sorry at all.

“Kylo?”

No answer. Armitage had never been a gentle person, per say. He was unempathetic and poorly versed in kindness- Ben was the only person he'd ever tried to be nice to, and he'd nearly killed him.

Hux slipped off the bed to his knees, crawled within his field of vision. He took Kylo’s hands to pull them from his face, and was hit with deja vu. Ben on the dock, gasping. Ben's hands clawing, clawing at his face, tearing at the skin of his neck, bleeding. Red turned pink with the rain, too much of it. Pink blood on Hux's hands, pulling him back, begging, screaming. That night. Fire and light and thunder; the only two people in the whole galaxy, swirling and mixing and their minds finally, finally one. Kisses after, counting freckles, sweet nothings, awful truths. The island. Asking how much of their world was real, how much would last past the dawn.

 _All of it_ , Ben had said, and he was wrong.

The last, and only night.

He pried Kylo’s hands from his face. He turned his attention to the calloused points, places he had gripped lightsabers with in the life before his life before. He ran the pads of his own fingers across the rough skin, brought Kylo’s hands to his face. Armitage pressed his lips to his palm, risked a peek through his eyelashes. Dark eyes stared back, brow furrowed, wary. Nevertheless, Kylo’s left hand went from his jaw upward, fingers combed through his loose red hair. His right was still over Hux's mouth, and his fingers gripped his chin and jaw at the joint, the pressure compelling him to part his lips. They had never done this before, never exercised control over one another like this. Kylo tightened his grip on his hair and Hux sat up straighter, caught his breath. Kylo’s thumb smeared across his lower lip, pressed the flesh against his teeth. Ben had been rushed, harsh, not like this. Deliberate. Controlled.

The moment held, blue eyes wide and questioning and brown, guarded and withdrawn. He loosened his hold on his hair, freed his jaw. Hux didn't breathe, didn't move, his mouth slightly open and heart racing.

Kylo could do anything. Hux would let him, he would. He waited.

His touch was soft now, feather-light over his cheek. A nudge upward beneath his chin clicked Hux's teeth.

“Breathe,” Kylo muttered, and Hux did. His expression was curious now, as though the game had changed and he had to get the hang of the new rules.

Armitage was still on his knees, still waiting. If submission was the price of Kylo’s forgiveness, he would pay it. He could be vulnerable for him, could become what Kylo wanted. It could go both ways.

When Kylo made no move to continue, Hux stood slowly. Kylo watched his every move, watched as Hux's familiar hands came to brush through his hair, felt that soothing pull at the roots. Kylo closed his eyes when Hux pressed their foreheads together, synced their breathing.

His eyes were still closed when Hux tilted to the left, still closed when he kissed Kylo full on the mouth, still closed when he pulled him closer.

Kylo's first kiss. The warmth and relief and desire in his heart didn't belong to him; Armitage was part of this body. Needing him was part of this body, and Kylo felt it clawing at his mind somewhere far away.

Ben had been clumsy, too eager, too quick for finesse. Kylo was slow, would learn fast and aim to please. There was no storm, no roaring winds or dramatic lighting. It was only them, in Cabin 1, the building coated in a fine layer of frost and the surface of Kamino white and dead with the suffocating quiet just outside the window. Kylo’s hands were on his hips; they didn't grip nor guide. Kylo’s lips were over his own, firm but patient. This time, there were no constraints, nowhere they had to be. This time, there were no distractions, no bonds, and somehow this way was more overwhelming.

They had all the time in the galaxy.

Mutedly, Hux wondered how much of this was real, how much would last past the dawn. He must have asked aloud, because Kylo replied.

“All of it,” came the answer, and his heart broke a little more. Kylo was wrong, but Armitage was willing to change that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These just keep getting longer and longer. Close to the first arc and opening to the second.
> 
> everybody give Kylo a warm welcome, he's having a rough existence.


	9. Cardinal Effect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evaluation, evaluation, evaluation.  
> S5 makes the Great Migration. Phasma and Hux have an altercation.
> 
> ie. the one where the description rhymes, phasma gets dunked on, kylo and hux bond a lil but not spiritually, and hux gives a peptalk

Phasma had no intention to change her plans- much. SV1632 had introduced himself as a problem, and he'd been factored into the original draft, but as if overnight, he and AR0046 were inseparable. Phasma couldn't seem to get AR alone no matter where they were. SV had never attended his own classes, but now he was coming to theirs, and all the times Phasma would usually be able to catch AR in the hall or pass him a note were foiled by SV looming right around the corner. What was worse, they were going by “Armitage” and “Kylo” now, as though they'd already passed evaluation with top marks and been promised their rank. She supposed it didn't really matter, though, as long as it was between them. They only ever spoke to each other anyway, another frustration.

AR didn't seem himself, and it was troublesome, as most of her plots revolved around his anxiety and general predictability. He was crafty and got the better of her on occasion, but for the most part, she was the planner. Was this sudden aloof behavior evidence of that craftiness? Was he planning to slip out of their agreement? Phasma expected at much, but the manner of execution confused her. He'd never done anything like this before.

Where AR was neurotic, Armitage was calm. Where AR had been anxious, Armitage appeared collected. Phasma used to be able to tell his mood, even his worries, from across the room; he was her best friend. She knew him. Now, he was someone entirely different, and she would have to factor Kylo into the Regions plan. Phasma had enough dirt to coerce the General into doing her another favor, but the more cards she played, the less she had for emergencies, and she'd already switched full gears once. She didn't have time to do it again.

 

\-----------

 

Kamino in winter was still dark, but the lights of the districts and docks bounced off of the vast sheets of ice piling up under the bridges. It was bright enough to be day on other planets, and the wind was biting, but no more than usual. Somehow, the blinding white was easier to deal with than the vicious onslaughts of rain.

Winter sheathed the Academy in ice and snow, and the Evaluation Center, Combat Specialty and Leadership Division, appeared to S5 as a massive wall of grey and white, the First Order ensign a staple feature on the towering doors of the building. It was large and intimidating, designed to reflect the full majesty and strength of the Order, and inside, there were hundreds of students from other sectors, even other districts, milling about with somewhere to go.

S5 had trekked over three kilometers of ice to get here.

Most sectors had two rovers allotted to them, fitting seven each, and S5 was no different, only the bridge leading from their specific dock to the rest of the district was frozen over slick, and to chip through the ice all the way across was both impractical and ineffective. They didn't have clearance for the equipment to even do that. The rovers were too heavy to lower onto the newer ice below, not that they had the clearance for that equipment either, and there was no other reasonable method to reach check in on time. So, to everyone's chagrin, they lowered themselves three hundred meters with the handlift two at a time, and walked.

Everyone had to be in full gear to withstand the wind and snow. It was buffeted by structure, buildings and walls and people within the base itself, but there on the surface of the ocean, towering pillars were the only thing between them and the elements. They all wore travel boots, helmets, oxygen, gloves, coats, picks, the whole affair. Armitage went through and checked every single soldier himself, because if he didn't, and someone went out unprepared, it was all the more likely they wouldn't make it back.

They were out there for four hours, slowed by weather and fatigue. Armitage had never been more grateful for planning ahead in his life; he'd sent all their necessary supplies and uniforms the day before. If he hadn't, they would have had to carry it with them and tack on another hour or more to their little expedition.

Needless to say, S5’s arrival was difficult to miss.

They had been visible from a kilometer away at least, dots on the ice to their competitors staring down at them from the Evaluation Center windows and balconies. As they'd gotten closer, Armitage was sure their spectators could spot their identifying features, blue for combat and, of course, the massive 5s in the center of their ensign. Their sector had already gathered so much unwanted attention in the past year; for the first time in awhile, Armitage remembered to be embarrassed.

Armitage insisted they took the stairs, at least to the bottom floor, ride the elevator from there. He would die before he called a lift from the bridge. Armitage could practically feel Kylo judging him and he didn't even care. They would not be a laughingstock, not if he could help it.

Needless to say,  S5’s arrival was difficult to miss.

They tracked snow and water inside and no one said a word. Their shoes squeaked and squelched on the glossy tile floor, and anyone who hadn't already stopped what they were doing to stare at them and whisper promptly joined the bandwagon. When Armitage removed his helmet, his men followed suit, and even though they were sweating in their winter equipment with the heat of the building, even though they were tired and hungry and soaking wet, they walked with their chins held high and their dignity intact. Armitage was so proud of his boys that he forgot to be embarrassed.

Checking in was a much less dramatic affair. As much as it pained him, he sent Kylo with the unit to collect their things and reserved the paperwork for himself. The seventh floor was the surface floor, and at reception, Armitage was handed a holopad with a book's worth of terms, technicalities, and agreements. His coat was still dripping water in the huge sitting room, thrown over a nearby chair. Hux himself had stripped down to his tracksuit, slowly but surely drying to a tolerable damp.

Armitage was skimming the thirteenth page when, of course, he caught the attention of the last person he wanted to see.

“How’s the weather out there?”

“Afternoon to you, too, PH4534.”

Phasma smiled her tight smile with her white teeth and forced friendliness and joined him, too close, on the bench. “Where's your little lap dog? He's not very little, though, is he?”

Hux almost choked, cleared his throat instead. Ears red, he flipped through the pages on the screen, initialling every dotted line. His tone was much less neutral the second time around. “What do you want, Phasma?”

She relaxed and leaned into the back of the bench, pleased. Maybe he hadn't changed so much after all. Less cheerful, more herself, more honest than intended, she said, “I'm checking on you. You've been disappearing on me, AR- not that that's even your name anymore.”

The turn of conversation surprised him. Phasma had never seemed particularly interested in the dynamics of their relationship, but in recent weeks, he supposed that had changed. Why did she care so much? He was suspicious before, but now he was just confused, wondering if emotions really were involved in her obsession with their companionship and future relations. First it was the kiss, then sitting nearby in class, intentionally crossing paths in the halls, and now this. He didn't answer.

“Look, AR, Armitage, if that's what you prefer to be called, I just want to know where we stand.”

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, paused the pen pressed to the screen, and considered. Phasma was not honest, was not trustworthy, did not have his best interest at heart or even in mind unless there was something in it for her. What was in this for her? What was she getting out of vying for his attention like a kicked puppy? Armitage returned his attention to the file.

“Our agreement is intact, if that's what you're referring to.”

His thickly masked tone said he knew it wasn't. Phasma set her jaw.

“You wouldn't know anything about him if I hadn't helped you,” she said, and the accusation was laced in careful indifference. She was much less relaxed now, her legs crossed at the knee and her back straight.

“If you hadn't blackmailed me,” he clarified casually. “I thank you for that. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“You're different, AR,” and her voice was tight. “It all started with him. As soon as you were transferred, everything changed between us, and-”

“I made a friend who doesn't come with terms and conditions, who doesn't lie to me, doesn't use me, doesn't have to be bribed for compassion,” Hux set the holopad aside and looked her dead in the face, “and you don't understand why I would prefer that to our so-called arrangement? What do you think this is, Phasma? Are we friends or are we business associates?”

Her eyes were wide, struck into silence. He'd never stood up to her directly, never challenged her to her face. Their fights were behind closed doors and fought through passive aggressive mischief, resolved with favors. They didn't talk. For once, Phasma didn't know what to say. She came here with a goal but couldn't remember what it was; she had a plan but Armitage had dismantled her control. He held the reigns now, and for once, it wasn't because Phasma handed them over.

When she didn't respond, Hux found himself astoundingly irate. This conversation had been building a while; he was angry with her. He had been angry with her a long time. “Friends, or partners? You want to know where we stand? So do I.”

“I had presumed we were both, Armitage.”

Her answer was solemn, but lost in the wave of frustration Hux was riding. He hadn't heard, or had, but didn't really listen.

“You keep switching up the rules, Phasma, and I don't believe constant manipulation was covered in the contract.” He ran a hand through his hair, wrecked from the helmet anyway. He looked like a mess and Kylo was gone and he was about to go off. Hux lowered his voice. “Phasma, I was _afraid_ of you. Friends shouldn't be scared of each other.”

“I want to be friends, Armitage,” she said slowly with more patience than she felt. Hux was about to interject when she continued, “I meant what I said in the study room. I want you at my side. -I'm doing well, I want to bring you with me if I can.”

He didn't ask her to elaborate.

“I also want to be partners and co-workers, among other things. You and I have always had a symbiotic relationship.”

“What are you getting at, Phasma?”

“We're compatible in many areas,” she said quickly, as if she hadn't meant to say it at all. “We make for an efficient match.”

His brain stalled out a moment, and he just looked at her. Phasma looked back, and her gaze unnerved him. Hux looked away first, picked up the holopad again and swiped through sections he'd read already, distracted and a little dazed.

“I've held to our agreement. Are there further instructions for this plan of yours?”

If he didn't know the woman so well, Hux might have thought he heard a waver in her voice.

“No,” Phasma said, and she placed- slammed -a bottle onto the low table in front of them. She was cold. “The next time I see you will be in the arena for the Combat Evaluation. I suggest you and your friend bring your best efforts to the table. S17 and I will not go down gently.”

“We look forward to the challenge,” came a deep, husky voice from just behind her. To Phasma’s credit, she stiffened rather than flinched.

Kylo passed her leisurely and glided into his place behind his lieutenant as if he'd always been there, radiating possession. He trailed his hand from Hux's bicep to his shoulder and Kylo’s glare tempted her to bare her teeth. Like he'd changed a setting on a droid, Phasma watched the stress melt from Armitage into the nether, leaning into his touch ever so slightly. They were looking right at her and she still felt invisible.

Hux's hand reached up to entangle with Kylo's, welcoming him just beside his neck where he was most vulnerable. Knowing SV1632 and his reputation for violence and double crossing, paired with AR’s lifelong discomfort for pressures behind him he couldn’t control, she got a bad taste in her mouth. Phasma watched the way they looked at one another, not excluding only her, but the whole world. When she was graced with Hux's attention again, it was like she had just sat down. He was refreshed and ready for whatever stress she'd come to bestow, his walls reinforced tenfold by Kylo at his back. Phasma stood with a stoic expression and tension in her shoulders. She straightened her tracksuit, released a deep breath.

“Until tomorrow,” she announced in a clipped, professional tone. It was Kylo that nodded back.

“Tomorrow.”

Phasma disappeared into the crowd.

Kylo disengaged from his post and sat beside him, casting his arm along the back of the bench. Armitage didn't quite lean into his side, but their thighs were touching and Kylo’s proximity still made his heart beat a little faster.

“Thank you,” he sighed. “I should hire you as a full-time sentinel. You can ward off unwelcome visitors and what not.”

Surveying the area, Kylo huffed. “I expect full compensation for any injuries sustained, emotional as well as physical.”

The quip surprised him, and Hux was smiling coyly, “And what kind of compensation are you willing to accept?”

“That depends on the damage, lieutenant,” he replied smoothly, and Hux could have sworn he winked. It reminded him of Ben, with his flirting and sense of ease, and for once, the pang in his heart wasn't grief. Armitage felt warm all over, and he had to bite his lip against a full grin to mask the giddy feeling in his chest. Kylo was looking away when he leaned in, Hux's breath warm in his ear.

“I'd be willing to negotiate.”

It was Kylo's turn to blush, even if only slightly, and not even he could shake off the little smile that gave Hux victory. Kylo only chuckled quietly and shook his head.

While Armitage finished checking them in and going over the itinerary, Kylo watched as lieutenants and their seconds passed and did business, discussing ground plans and troublemakers alike. They were the only pair by a longshot with a junior lieutenant older than their superior, even if it was by just a year, and that alone made S5 stand out even more. Armitage would turn seventeen soon, but that didn't matter. Within six months, Kylo would be eighteen, and they'd have the same problem. Granted, they both fully intended to have graduated from the Academy by then, Hux a year early, and Kylo, all too soon. He wanted to be rid of Kamino as much as Kamino wanted to be rid of him.

It wasn't until now Kylo realized that as soon as this was over, because he was almost certainly graduating with his passing grade, it was very likely he and Armitage would be separated. In fact, it was a near guarantee. Armitage was trying to graduate early, but if he didn't score perfect marks in his evaluations, both personal and sectoral, he'd be on Kamino another whole season. Even if this was their last testing, though, and they both got out of here, Force willing, there was no reason to think they'd be paired up again without higher level intervention. Armitage was enlisting; Kylo was, if the man he spoke with in his sleep was to be believed, going directly into an apprenticeship on an entirely different planet. For all he knew, it may not even be a planet at all; the next five years, Kylo could very well be on a ship. He glanced at his superior, brow furrowed in concentration. Armitage probably hadn't even thought that far. Since Ben died, his entire focus has gone to Kylo and getting through their obstacles one at a time. He couldn't afford to divide his attention any more than he already had. Between Phasma, the General, school, training, prep for evaluations, and Kylo, who in and of himself required an incredible amount of attention, worrying over things like what happened next just wasn't a practical option. There wasn't time.

Armitage tucked the holopad under his arm and turned to Kylo brightly, looking determined and full of energy. If he sensed Kylo's train of thought, which he did, he didn't say anything. They just couldn't afford the distraction. In a rare overt display of romantic affection, at least all the close contact could be overlooked by most who preferred not to think about it, Armitage pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. His eyes were soft in understanding; Kylo was caught in them, had taken the time to count those eyelashes and spot every fleck of green in his irises. The right was bluer than the left.

“Ready?” Armitage asked lightly, knowing the weight of the question. Ready to go, ready to fight, ready to win, ready to graduate, grow up, leave him behind and hope for the best?

Kylo sighed.

“That depends on the damage, lieutenant.”

They rose from the bench and Kylo threw all of the drying winter clothes over one arm. Hux returned the holopad to reception and, joining hands, ventured three floors up to their room.

Phasma’s little blue bottle still stood abandoned on the coffee table, glinting in the fluorescent light.

 

Of the four district-specific evaluations, combat, drills, leadership, and weapons training, combat was first thing in the morning. They were here four days, one for travel, two for testing, and the last for closing marks and dismissal. Of the twenty-four specialty sectors, only six were combat specialty, and those would all be testing together. As specialty units, their test would be more difficult within their specified field of study. Why their most difficult evaluation was the first one they were assigned, Armitage couldn't say. It wasn't ideal, though.

S5 wasn't the only unit with the bright idea to warm up beforehand, and the gymnasium was packed. All six of the combat specialty groups made almost eighty total, and Armitage spotted fifty at least. While scoping out competition would be fun, they didn't have time.

The boys were tired, but Kylo had gone above and beyond to get them all out of bed and running before the day had even started. He'd let Armitage sleep and taken care of everything, breakfast, refreshers, uniform check, and it was sweet, but unsettling. Kylo was reliable and possessive, therefore protective, but he wasn't sweet. He didn't typically take initiative without Hux's say so. Waking up to an empty bed, followed by an empty hall of bunk beds with nothing but a note was justly off putting, especially on a day as important as this. Hux had rushed through his morning routine to meet his sector, running around all morning without a lieutenant, outside the gymnasium doors.

There were fifty students training at least, and the boys were yet rubbing sleep from their eyes. Kylo stepped aside as soon as he'd appeared, and Hux did his best not to look perturbed. If his historically indifferent boyfriend decided to try a hand at being nice, he wouldn't correct him, even if his methods weren't entirely appreciated. The slight pressure at his lower back let him know, at least to a point, that Kylo sensed his distress. Why was he being so thoughtful? Armitage shook off the suspicion and addressed his unit, rounding them up and sending them on the elevator to the top floor. If they couldn't train here, they'd find somewhere else.

The roof was domed by a plexiglass shield not unlike their training dock at home, though the ground was gravelly and rough. Taking falls here wouldn't be very fun; Hux supposed they had better not fall, then. It was more space than they were used to, but it would only be overwhelming if they let it. Outside the glass, the whole base, the whole Academy was visible, all the way down to the bridges and docks that curved over the horizon, crossing each other into other districts. The thickening ice stretched out for kilometers, but there was yet an end to it. Far in the distance, the shelf sported long black cracks and beyond it lay dark water, unusually calm in the absence of a summer storm. Just as far out, he thought he could spot a break in the clouds, and past that, Hux could've sworn he glimpsed the sky.

For a moment, copper burst on his tongue, electric, and all the stress of the morning drifted away.

As tired as they had complained they were, the twelve boys were surprisingly agile and quick handed, slipping into their routines with ease. Hux wasn't hesitant to remind them they were facing other sectors with different tactics, and periodically switched them off and around to test their adaptability. Normally, they would be stuck in a haze of bloodlust and hyper energy, but for whatever reason, everyone was clear headed and sharp, their movements more calculated and challenging to their opponents. Armitage was beyond pleased. He couldn't think of what could have changed in just a night, but morale was up and their evaluation was in less than an hour.

Having gotten in a good stretch himself purely for principle reasons, Hux called S5 to attention. Everyone lined up accordingly, if not a tad slowly as they caught their breath. Kylo was among their ranks, serving as a partner for the odd man out and to complete the twelve. The boy from the General Ranks Ben had bullied so mercilessly had transferred days before. As he spoke, Hux felt Kylo's eyes on him. He worked to push down the heady excitement, nervousness.

“This is it! The moment we go through these doors, we are entering a warzone!” Hux was loud, and he knew it, but the echo of his voice off the glass still surprised him. He didn't let it show. Every pair of eyes was on him, now. They were listening.

“Every soldier in blue is to be considered an enemy; friends and acquaintances from class or otherwise are not to be trusted, relied on, or spared the full impact of our preparation!”

His voice rang out over the roof, and stepping down from the ledge in front of the door, he walked along the line, addressing one student after another. It was becoming easier to maintain the conviction in his tone, despite practicing this a million times over in his head.

“Today is a big day, gentlemen. Everything you have learned thus far will be tested, your limits will be pushed, and how you perform today will determine not only your future, but the future of the Sector 5 Combat Specialty Unit as a whole.”

Gravel crunched under his boots, and with every step, his words held more weight, approaching the end of his speech.

“You have been well prepared.”

Hux reached the rightmost end of the lineup where Kylo stood, taller and older and so observant. This part was more for him.

“I have every confidence in your abilities.” It was hard to hide the smile. “You will not fail.”

Kylo nodded with a subtle movement, and they shared a moment of accomplishment. They had worked hard and seen a lot, Hux and Ben and Kylo, all together, and despite everything that had happened with the bond and Phasma and the break, they still managed to end up here. Hux knew they could do this, and without saying anything, he knew Kylo did, too.

He turned from his second and stepped up the ledge to call out one more time. “Is this understood?”

The moment following the resounding, “Yes, sir!” was easily the proudest he'd ever been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have it mapped out til the end? But if it goes into a 16th chapter I guess that's what happens?
> 
> y'all hit me with those comments tho  
> (If you want, I mean, the fact anyone reads at all is super great and I'm so glad you take the time ♡)


	10. Fiery Serpents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Combat Specialty Evaluation, Hux vs. Phasma in a battle royale that will determine their futures- whether or not they'll have one, that is.
> 
> ie. the one with non-graphic violence and lots of fancy wording and nothing is fair but i mean when is it, really

Kylo was unfamiliar with this place, but the ghost of it floated in the back of his mind and told him he'd been here before. The doors to the arena were large and foreboding, a rather expensive aesthetic to scare a bunch of children, he thought. Looking at the determined but slightly petrified group of adolescents, Kylo decided it was working.

The lot of them had been shoved into a waiting room until they were called to enter the combat area, and tension was relatively high. Armitage, in the chair to his left, was especially antsy, bouncing his leg and worrying his lips enough that his stress was leaching over and making  _ him _ stressed. Kylo put a heavy hand on the lieutenant’s thigh to stop the motion, and the background clattering of nearby furniture abruptly quieted. He heard Armitage take a deep breath, and removed his hand. Armitage chased it, though, and caught it in his own, using Kylo as an anchor like always.

This level of dependency was something Ben Solo had wanted. Kylo couldn't quite grasp what, but Ben had done something to Armitage to achieve this behavior. It wasn't natural for him. Armitage was frightened by it, and his fear wasn't natural. Something about their dynamic unsettled Kylo. It didn't match up to his fragmented memories and sensations: wanting Armitage to be more open, wanting his trust, wanting his physical attention, wanting his everything. Here they were, and, as Armitage intertwined their fingers, Kylo knew he had all of himself the lieutenant could possibly give, even if Kylo wasn't who he wanted to give it to. He didn't understand the blatant need for attention. The bizarre itch under his skin that craved him, the  _ missing _ , still hadn't gone away, and it was driving him mad. Ben had been indulgent in himself, had given into all of his own whims, and the ghosts of his lack of control left bile in his mouth. Ben's residual wanting just wouldn't go away.

Armitage holding onto him like a lifeline pleased him so much, it was disgusting, and the lines were blurring between his own thoughts and the wants of a boy long dead. Sentinel, his guardian and protector as they'd joked just the day before, was a position he already fulfilled with ease whether he intended to or not. The preservation of them both was simply non-negotiable. If Armitage asked, Kylo was infuriatingly unsure if he could refuse any request.

The thin, nervous fingers of Hux's free hand were picking at his teeth and lips, and Kylo sighed. The sound of bubbling saliva and torn nails was cut short.

“Sorry,” he muttered, and Kylo frowned. Armitage had never apologized before, not to memory- not even sobbing into their bed over all he should have said and should have done “when Ben was here” did he ever say sorry. The sentiment felt wrong from him, another pang from the back of his mind, and the dull ache at his temples was back. This happened sometimes, when he noticed particular things. If his gaze lingered too long on the freckles dotting his shoulders, or if he dared pick up one of those stupid books Hux mourned over so prominently, the resulting headache was splintering. It felt like someone ramming his skull from the inside out, fighting to escape, and in those times, he could feel something trying to get out just as much as he could sense something, someone, trying to get in.

If Kylo was in pain, he never showed it. It was all the more opportunity to draw on the shadows at his hands, and add to the roiling power building inside him. Who and whatever was battling to gain access to this body would only fuel his defences. Kylo had no intention to die.

He was snapped out of his reverie when he felt a warm body lean into his, a head on his shoulder, a torso tucking into his side, chaste lips on his jaw. Hux really was worried, then.

“What is it?”

Armitage was quiet in his ear. “We're going to be separated when they open that door,” he said flatly, “and what happens in there is going to change everything.”

“You don't think we can win.” Kylo stated. There was a moment of silence.

“I don't think Phasma will be forgiving. It doesn't matter if we win or not; she has the game rigged, I'm sure of it.” His tone was heavy, tired, “If there's one thing I know about Phasma, it's that she'll never choose anything over her pride, not even if it were life or death.”

Kylo snorted. “And you would?”

That earned him a halfhearted jab in the hip and a bemused, “Shut up.” Hux continued in a more somber voice.

“She wanted me to choose between her and you, and I did.”

Kylo waited, watched Hux trace the lines of his palm.

“That was the real test. She'll never forgive me for failing.”

He pulled back to meet those blue eyes, brow furrowed. Armitage wouldn't look at him.

“What does that mean?” He asked. When there was no answer, Kylo took his jaw in hand and clicked his tongue. He had to tighten his grip until Hux winced, but he complied.

“There's no fight, Kylo. I chose you.” His touch softened, and Hux leaned into it. “I chose us, and Phasma is going to punish me for that. If she gets her way, we'll never see each other again.” Hux pressed a lingering kiss to his lips, and it confused him. This attitude of defeat was odd, he didn't like it, and just as Kylo was about to return the kiss, it ended. “Phasma always gets her way.”

“But on the roof-”

“We could do it, Kylo, if the game was fair. I've no doubt in my mind we'd mop the floor with S17 and Phasma’s stupid face, but she's a cheat. It'll be over the minute it starts.” He smiled, and Kylo didn't think he'd ever really seen that before, was unfamiliar with the flutter in his chest that came with it. “We're going to give her a run for her money, though.”

The rest of the unit was surrounding them, but they'd grouped together to avoid their superiors as much as possible. It was difficult to ignore their blatant signs of affection, like now, but they managed. It was much, much worse than usual; the pair typically spared them anything more than the occasional hand holding or lingering touch. The doors became very interesting when the lieutenant himself had SV1632’s tongue halfway down his throat and they held each other like it was the end of the world. It was a little funny, though. S5 had always been notorious for its disregard for the rules, and this was just the icing on the cake.

It was only a few agonizing minutes later that the lieutenant rounded them up, flushed and breathless, and informed them they had less than five minutes to get into formation and loosen up. The doors would open soon, and the test would begin. S17 would be doing the same on the other side of the arena in a room just like theirs, and the moment they were visible, their guard had to be impenetrable.

AR0046 stood in front, his second just behind him, and all eyes were trained on the red light to the left of the door. It flashed green.

“ _ Access granted, _ ” rang the door, and the release of air pressure came opposite the catch of breath of the students on the other side.

The first evaluation had begun.

 

The arena wasn't quite massive, but it was large, a white cylindrical room with as many as six doors along its walls. The floor was hard and polished under their feet, unfamiliar terrain, and the lights were bright. There were no shadows. In the center of the room stood a man about Kylo’s height in a crisp black uniform decorated in badges. His face was pinched and his jaw was too sharp, and his shock of red hair only perpetuated his incredibly pale complexion. His brow was heavy from years of disappointment, and the lines in his face were deep from what appeared to be a permanent scowl. It was the General. It was his father.

Normally, the judge’s introduction and formalities were done through a pre-recorded hologram while the real one watched from one of the many black windows just below the ceiling. He had never heard of an evaluation with a judge in the flesh. He worked to hide his surprise.

Armitage hadn't been able to find clear enough pictures to distinguish the man's features, and until now, had no reason to believe that the General had any motive beyond personal gain in seeking him out. That may yet hold true, but any doubt that this man could be anyone else but his carbon copy was gone from his mind. Armitage looked just like him, albeit much smaller and weaselly.

As he was expected, Armitage left his sector and approached the judge in step with Phasma, who had entered directly opposite to him. They both stood before him, eyes boring into the old man’s head, and the General shook Phasma’s hand first.

“PH4534. I've heard much about you.”

“Good things, I hope, sir.” Phasma wasn't wearing her lipstick. The General’s face was impassive.

“Your reputation precedes you, I will say that.”

Phasma smiled a pleasant, “Sir,” and nodded his acknowledgement respectfully. He didn't have to like her as long as he held up his end of the deal.

He turned his attention to Armitage.

Blue stared intently into blue, analyzing, sizing each other up. They shared the same straight-backed posture, tense down to their toes. Aside from the nose, it was like looking at an old holofeed of himself at that age.

“General Brendol Hux,” Armitage said first, fiery determination on his face. The mask he would have used for this was nowhere to be found, and instead, all the energy and resilience was plain as day. The General took his hand.

“AR0046. I trust your efforts to reign in this band of miscreants weren't in vain.”

“You trust rightly.”

And that was all they said, still holding hands gripped too tightly and glaring at one another, testing and challenging. When the moment passed, Phasma and Hux both turned to attention, facing one another. The General dismissed them with a wave of his hand and the lieutenants returned to their respective sectors, holding standard formation on opposite halves of the circle. The judge himself had turned and exited through one of the doors, presumably to watch from the traditional vantage point, and in moments, the intercom filled the space.

“Combat Specialty Sectors 5 and 17, as specialty units, your performance will be measured in an isolated space under intensive scrutiny. As Specialty Evaluations in the past, this testing will be measured against your fellow sectors. Those deemed acceptable by Academy standards and ranking superior to their opponents will progress within the Specialty Division while those who do not will be transferred. The lieutenant of the superior sector, if deemed worthy by current score and past conduct, will be granted appropriate rank upon enlistment, and graduation with Honors from the Disciplinary Academy of Order come the end of the current seasonal period.”

These were all rules they'd heard a hundred times before, but Phasma and Armitage both paid close attention as the words washed over them. This applied to them specifically. No longer were they just passing phrases repeated over and over every season, but promises of a future.

“The rules are as follows: should a student find ⅔ of their body on the ground, they are to be considered ‘dead’, and are out of the evaluation. In the event of the fall of the lieutenant, should the sector still emerge victorious, the junior lieutenant will be granted the rank of lieutenant in the coming season, while the current lieutenant will be transferred from the Specialty Division to the General Division and be reevaluated. Should both the lieutenant and junior lieutenant fall, instant victory will be granted to the opposing sector. Cowardly and dishonest action will be addressed on an individual basis. Otherwise, the evaluation will proceed until there is either a surrender, or one sector is incapacitated in its entirety- effectively, the last man standing. Medi-droids will be available to all students after the evaluation is concluded, unless serious injury is sustained. Students are reminded that Evaluation is a simulation test, and not a legitimate battleground. Excessively cruel or violent behavior will also be addressed on an individual basis. The test will begin when the clock strikes zero.”

The com crackled off and a hologram appeared on the left wall, counting down thirty seconds. Armitage felt the excitement in his bones; the rules were rules. Perhaps Phasma’s influence only went so far. They could still do this. Kylo helped arrange the boys in their places for their opening offensive, and briefly went over the game plan while Armitage watched S17, trying to get a sense of Phasma’s first few moves. He knew she would target him over everyone else. He was doing the same to her, and if not, she would be after Kylo. Of the entire sector, Phasma was the only one remotely capable of downing his junior lieutenant, and if Armitage could get to her first, there would be no problems.

He glanced at the clock. Five seconds. Armitage looked over his own men and saw nothing but concentration and confidence. Kylo's hand brushed his as he stepped into position. 

“Breathe,” he told him. Armitage did.

The clock reached zero.

There was a moment of stillness before the storm, as there always was, but it was no longer than a half second before a staggered line of S17 members came charging at full speed.

The S5 defensive was ready to meet them, offense splitting from either side of the main to breach the interior of the enemy. The floor was a writhing mass of students turned soldiers, with one or two boys on each side already on the ground. In the combat evaluation, it was all hand to hand. Weapons were strictly prohibited, and so Hux was surprised to see blood so early on. It would be an amazing display of strength if both sectors had followed the rules and still managed such immediate carnage. They were up against Phasma, though, and following the rules was probably not a priority. Armitage was unsurprised to see glints of something sharp or other in the hands of some S17 students. He was glad he had enforced protective wear under their uniforms; Kylo had said he was over preparing and the weight would slow them down.

Kylo was puppy guarding him, even though he wasn't supposed to. He should have been going for Phasma directly, but instead, he hovered at Hux's side and fended off anyone who came too close. There was a flash of irritation as an S17, he didn't see who, was shoved to the ground by the wall that was his junior lieutenant. The boy had come for him and was entirely in his range- Hux could have fought him off easily. While combat wasn't his favorite, or even his best subject, he was still trained. 

Armitage hit one knee on the ground with a bang, the force of someone at his back knocking him down. He was able to get to his feet, but when he turned, Kylo and Phasma were locked together. She had nearly downed him, almost won the game because he had been distracted. His reflection was only a split second because, with his right hand occupied keeping Phasma out of the way, suddenly Armitage was launched into his own self defense.

The formations and strategies had fallen apart entirely on both ends, and now it was just wrestling and pain and noise. Those sharp-ended things, Hux had deduced they were bits of disposable utensils from the mess hall, were proving to be detrimental. Out of the thirteen of them, five were down, and one had been taken by a medidroid. There were seven left, and Armitage had managed to fell one S17 before an ill-timed step knocked him directly into a sprightly girl he recognized as DU1288. She was small and she was fast, and had knocked his feet out from under him before he even knew what was happening. Armitage caught himself, though, and used the momentum and the leverage from the ground to launch back at her. For once, his size served him well. 

It was seven to six. Incredibly, S5 was in the lead.

Armitage checked on Kylo and Phasma when he could spare a glance, and it took everything in his power to look away and focus on the task at hand. Phasma had Kylo in a headlock from behind, her arms up under his and wrapped back behind his head. Kylo was kicking and twisting, and Hux had caught sight of blood, though he couldn't say whose. He was in no position to help; instead, he tried to regain some kind of order amongst those still standing, six now, and they were tied. 

“Protocol 5.1!” he yelled, and he hoped Phasma didn't use a numeric code system. The first number was a direction, and the second, the nature of it. 5.1 meant ‘consolidate, offensive’. Those of S5 that could hear over the din would know to pull inward and attack; their close quarters would serve as defense enough.

The order was followed as best as it could be in the chaos. With S17 suddenly having to come to them to fight, Hux had the opportunity to access their progress. Kylo and Phasma were head to head. The remainder of S17 was six- five, and they were all armed that Hux could see. Bad sign. A positive, the S17 junior lieutenant was down. Of S5, there was him, his second, thank the Force, and one, two...two others. They were down to four, thanks to Phasma and her cheating. They were outnumbered and falling fast. If they managed to get Phasma on the ground at least ⅔ of the way, it would be over. That had to be their main objective.

“5.2,” he called. Consolidate, defensive. There we only two of them that could manage that, but even two defending he and Kylo was better than being subject to the four attacking them. He turned his attention to the battle royale.

Kylo was free of Phasma’s hold. A second S17 soldier had wormed past defense and was poised to attack from his other side. Kylo was distracted, all of his attention on keeping Phasma at least occupied. Armitage was as fast as the sweat-slick floor would allow, but the damage was done. Even as Armitage pummeled the boy to the ground, the threat had registered on Kylo's radar and divided his focus just a moment. It was enough.

Phasma wrenched her wrist free from his hold and clawed at his face, splitting skin above his brow and spilling blood into his eyes, blinding him. Kylo stalled, his hands reflexively going to the wound to wipe the obstruction from his eyes. Phasma kneed him in the stomach and Kylo doubled over. She didn't look to see if he had fallen all the way; he was useless now. Instead, she went straight for Hux, only a few steps away.

Phasma had always been bigger than him. She was stronger, too, as she'd stayed in combat, wanted to be there. She was an expert here, and he was nothing more than a square trying to fit a circular mold. He didn't know how to cut corners. Armitage took the offense before she could, ramming into her waist head first. He was too small to attack her the traditional way, and knew her too well to go for anything cheap. Phasma caught him somewhat easily and shoved him off before any damage was done. Her eyes were blazing. One of the last of the S5 unit fell, screaming, and it was only Kylo and one other left against three S17s. He could still see, if not blearily, out of his right eye, and was fending off two of the three, much like Ben had in his cruel tournament game that very first day.

Hux tasted blood. The metallic taste of it should have been alarming, but he was glad for it. If he tried, he could feel the electricity in the air and hear the thunder of fighting, heavy feet on hard stone. The reminder of the bond hit him full force and suddenly, Hux felt rejuvenated. He pulled strength from the phantom sensation, the memory of the wave of power that storm had given, and the pain and aches in his body faded to a dull registry. Kylo had defeated one of his opponents, only one on one left. The last of the S17 unit and the S5 defence had outed each other when one barreled the other to the ground, managing to fell both of them at the same time. It was two for two.

“You should have stuck with me,” Phasma hissed. Armitage didn't have energy to waste responding. Most of their fight was her attacking and him being just fast and slim enough to dodge. There was very little opportunity to attack, not with no one to back him up, and Kylo was coaching him from across the room, “Don't do anything stupid!”

He didn't have time to respond to that, either.

And so Hux dodged and slipped away, managing to land one or two blows to her midsection. He didn't dare go for her legs; he'd be down in seconds, and even if she was, too, that would still spell no victory for him. Kylo would be lieutenant by default and he'd be demoted, even if he'd sacrificed himself nobly for the sector as a good leader should.

Phasma managed to get him against the high, rounded wall, pinning him there with a hand fisted in the chest of his tracksuit. He squirmed, working to push her away, and why she didn't just throw him down right there was beyond him. Phasma was grinning at him with those white teeth and her look was feral and proud.

“This was over before it started,” she crooned, echoing Hux's exact thought from earlier. “You lost the day you set foot in the Combat District, AR,” Phasma pulled back her arm and shoulder and wound herself up for a hit that would probably render him unconscious. Her tone was sweet, sympathetic. “At least you can be Admiral in your dreams.”

And Kylo slammed her head into the wall.

Hux was just short enough to be missed, and he took the opportunity to weasel away as Phasma, slightly dazed, whirled on him. The two were engaged again, both hindered by one injury or another, with only Hux left standing alone.

It was two to one, and S5 was in the lead.

Armitage wasn't entirely sure how he could be of help, since he was small and would likely only get in the way, but he was being graded on this and more pressing, Kylo was hurt.

Phasma had managed to get herself off of the wall. They were in more central space, stumbling over the bodies of students playing dead. Hux watched them stepping back and colliding again and again, and waited for an opening. He got it when Phasma launched herself toward Kylo, her body already in motion too fluid to stop in time. Hux went low and slid across the floor, one knee bent and the other leg outstretched and gliding over the ground. Just like that, Phasma tripped, and all Kylo had to do was step back and let her fall. She landed on all fours, technically still in, but Kylo was heavy, and his foot on her back was enough to buckle her several inches.

Hux, to his feet by now, crossed the floor and crouched in front of his longtime friend and rival, and more recently, enemy.  If he was like Phasma, he would take the opportunity to gloat, maybe say something witty. Instead, he reached down and pulled her arm out to the side just so, avoiding her snapping teeth, and watched her fall the rest of the way down.

The arena was quiet save the laboured breathing of its inhabitants, then the incessant beeping of medidroids as they spilled into the room, students sitting up and groaning and others whooping their victory. Kylo stepped back from their defeated adversary. Armitage reached up thoughtlessly to try and wipe the blood from his face, but there was too much, and again, he was reminded of that nightmarish day on the dock.

Kylo’s hand wrapped around his wrist to bring him planetside, and Hux almost laughed at the absurdity of all of it. His boyfriend was reminding him not to think of his dead boyfriend while they stood, covered in blood, over a battlefield littered in bodies. He thought Kylo very nearly smiled.

It was over. They had won.

The intercom sounded over the mingling dismay and euphoria, and the room settled a little.

“This concludes the Combat Specialty Evaluation, victor: Sector 5. Junior lieutenants will lead their units out and to the med-bay if necessary; lieutenants will remain present for more detailed results.”

The voice clicked and went quiet. Kylo dropped his wrist to usher the sector to their feet and herd them out as directed, not sparing a glance back. The room emptied quickly, and Hux was left standing with his bloodied hands as Phasma rose to her feet beside him. She was stone faced and silent, and knocked into his shoulder as she passed. Hux would allow her that. He followed.

The General had exited the door and was coming toward them both, stopping dead center in the room as before. He looked at them both with equal disdain, which was neither here nor there. Hux was starting to think that maybe that was just his face.

“AR0046, PH4534, the results of your evaluation are fairly clear. PH4534, you have failed.”

The words weighed heavy like Kylo's boot and Phasma was grinding her teeth. He wasn't finished, though, and both listened with their undivided attention.

“AR0046, as lieutenant victor of the Combat Specialty Evaluation, it would serve as tradition that you be awarded both graduation and rank, however,” his blood froze in his veins. However? What was the however? Phasma was smiling, suddenly, like a Cheshire cat, and his earlier words came back to his mind.

_ The game is rigged. _

The General was looking at him, and Armitage was stock-still and blank. He missed everything that was said, missed the particulars, and now Phasma was laughing. He blinked.

“I'm sorry, what?”

General Hux raised an eyebrow and sighed. “Your conduct does not befit a First Order cadet, much less an officer. While your performance here was,” he paused, “impressive, your character appears to conflict with your eligibility for promotion.”

“He's saying everyone knows you banged your junior lieutenant,  _ Armitage _ . Oh, wait, it's AR still, isn't it? AR0046, a serial number. A faceless, nameless, worthless-”

The General cleared his throat and Phasma had the decency to blush a little.

“AR0046,” the General continued. “Due to overwhelming evidence of an illicit relationship between yourself and your inferior officer, one SV1632, we of the First Order hereby reject your application to the Specialty Training Program, and strip you of command effective immediately.”

Hux was pale. It was so, so much worse than they had thought. He was going to be sick if there was more, but he didn't dare check out now. His focus was trained on the General, his judge, his father, who looked at him like a stranger, who was a stranger. That clinical voice shook his bones.

“In your stead, Lieutenant Phasma will accompany the other awarded applicants following the Evaluation period in graduation, enlistment, and the Victor’s Welcome, all of which you will be excluded from. The hearing discussing your potential dishonorable expulsion from the Disciplinary Academy of Order for such acts will begin no later than the cusp of Winter and Spring Season. In the meantime, one SV1632, on probation though with no mark to his record, will act as lieutenant of the Sector 5 Combat Specialty Unit, Specialty Division, Combat and Strategy District. All further evaluations are to proceed as normal for him and those below him. You are hereby exempt from further testing, and will report to your quarters for the remainder of the evaluation period, at the end of which you will be transferred to a holding facility yet to be announced. Is this understood?”

His voice was hollow. “Yes, sir.”

“Repeat to me a summary of the information relayed to you.”

“Due to an illicit relationship with my junior lieutenant, I will be stripped of title, transferred to holding, and potentially expelled.”

Phasma nudged him lightly in an almost friendly gesture, as if to remind him of the an answer on a test they'd studied for together.

“Lieutenant Phasma will take my place in all benefits associated with the Specialty Training Program, from which I have been,” he swallowed, “rejected.”

They were still looking at him. Hux felt his face getting hot and his vision was blurring. He was shaking- where was Kylo? Why was he so far away? He couldn't cry, not here, not in front of  _ her,  _ not-

“Until the end of the evaluation period, I will report-” he hiccuped, “report to my assigned quarters unless otherwise directed.”

The General nodded, and probably dismissed him, but Armitage wasn't listening. He couldn't hear or understand much that was said to him, if anything was said, and he couldn't feel his feet and his legs and his body taking him out of the arena, through the waiting area, through the hall to the elevator and up, up to his room he shared with Kylo-

_ He left you, of course he did, you're useless, you're useless, useless, better off without you, better off, better off dead, dead, dead dead dead better off- _

-fumbling with the keypad until his clumsy fingers managed to unlock the door, and straight to his bed, the bed he'd woken up alone in this morning, the bed with pillows that still smelled like Ben.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp.


	11. Communion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's nothing worse than being alone, alone forever, forever forever forever-
> 
> Master has promised to fix that.
> 
> Open the cage and you open yourself to taking, will be taken, taken like someone who loved you, don't do it, don't give us up, I was wrong.
> 
> ie. the one with the stars in the water and a plethora of run-on sentences.

Kylo was notified of his apparent promotion fairly soon after it had happened. No one had told him, per say, but when he checked Hux's holopad, left in the bag he'd abandoned in the waiting room, his title was blank. When he looked up the unit, Hux's electronic signature was locked out of the network. He had to search the general Academy server for their unit, the page only displaying as much information as S5, CLSDiv., CSDis., and below that, in smaller print, Lt. SV1632, JLt. HS6890.

He was lieutenant.

Did this mean Armitage had already graduated? He didn't think they released them that quickly, Specialty Training Program or not. He hadn't been officially promoted through ceremony, either, usually an affair that followed Evaluation. It was only their second day, they had two more to go, and three more tests to boot. Something was off.

Kylo sat in the med-bay, eyes glued to the screen as half of his unit was treated for minor punctures and some, heinous gashes. He couldn't believe S17 had gotten away with that. Weapon usage in a hand to hand fight was decidedly cowardly action, punishable by disqualification or worse. Major injury, like the boy carted off mid evaluation for care, warranted demotion. 

Kylo's right eye was red and irritated from the solution they'd used to clean the area in his brush over checkup, and his face was a permanent wince as a result. His body was catching up to him, aching left and right and most everywhere. The bandage just above his right eyebrow was slowly clotting the cut, not that it hurt all that much. It looked worse than it was; face wounds just bled a lot. Soon, he'd have a medidroid heal it and he'd be out of there. Something had happened and he needed to find out what.

They had a few hours to rest and heal up, eat, before the Drills and Maneuvers Evaluation. That one was Hux's forte. He had even put together a neat little system that told the unit what to do and how. Organization of information and follow through, the perfect challenge for the academic mind. Passing it without him would be an ordeal, to say the least.

Where Ben would have marched off to find Hux anyway, or grabbed a droid and demanded he be fixed right then, Kylo waited patiently. His lieutenant wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, and immediate action would do little more than agitate him. Whatever had happened was very clearly done, and changing it was a dilemma that would take time to overcome. Rushing now would do no good.

It wasn't a terribly long wait, and his own intentional ease kept the boys calm and unbothered. It was a wise decision. Healed and able to see much clearer, Kylo took his leave of the bay after giving generic instructions to S5. The droids would probably be awhile yet, but Kylo gave the boys a little more freedom. They would be cleaned up and taken care of, after which they were free to roam as they would so long as they reported to mess at the appointed time.

The room was the first place he checked, as Hux obviously wasn't in the med-bay, and afterwards he planned to try for the library. Neither proved true, and Kylo was, frustratingly enough, beginning to worry. Fretting was another of Ben's feelings, Ben's weaknesses, and it crept up on him when he least expected it. That pounding in his head started up again at the thought, ringing like a thunderous bell in his ears.

_ Not enough, it's not enough, you have to do  _ more _ - _

The opposite pulling, the small pressure against the clanging pain chimed also, louder than usual, and frantic-

_ Show me where and I'll find you I'll find you I'll- _

And then the small bell was flinging itself every which way, casting its net wildly, seeking, seeking for something beyond the narrow scapes of Kylo’s mind. He knew instinctively that the force scouring his thoughts was looking for the sea. It was more than that, though, it was-

_ Darkscareddon’tunderstand- _

-looking for stars in the water.

Armitage was on the roof.

He couldn't say how he knew, but there was a decided quieting in his mind when he started for the top floor. He could almost feel the distress the closer he got to that domed glass room. Kylo supposed he was concerned to the point of delusion. Armitage was psy-null; there wasn't a chance that the havoc in his mind was because of him.

Kylo threw open the rooftop door to find it deserted. Gravel ground against gravel with every step, and though it seemed clear that no one was there, he couldn't shake the feeling that told him Hux was here, that this was the only place he would go.

_ It's only black water,  _ Kylo had said.  _ What else is there?   _ And Hux had said nothing.

At the far end of the room there was a door to the outer edge of the roof, likely for maintenance droids, and Kylo felt impressed to open it. On the other side, with only a half meter between the edge of the skyscraper and the drop, Armitage was standing by himself. It was snowing, and he wore no coat, or gloves, despite all the winter gear they had brought with them. Hux was slight, easily pushed to and fro by Kamino’s angry winds, and Kylo could see him struggling to maintain balance. With only a gust of wind in the right direction, he'd be sent tumbling through the blizzard to the hard surface of the ice, hundreds of meters below.

“Armitage!” Kylo yelled over the wind. It was so strong up here that it stole his voice and he worried his lieutenant hadn't heard, but the redhead looked back with those scared eyes rimmed with the eyelashes he'd counted, clumps of white caught between them. All of him was white, really; the snow clung to him everywhere, as if winter had already claimed him and this ghost was all that was left.

Hux was seeing without seeing, eyes unfocused and distant, confused. Kylo didn't dare step closer- the available ground wasn't nearly wide enough for them both, and if he got too close or surprised him, he was afraid Hux might fall. His heart was pounding in his ears. He saw his lips moving. Hux was speaking to him but the wind was too loud. Through the downpour of snow, Kylo could make out one of those pale, dainty hands rising to point directly out, toward the horizon. Armitage was showing him something, but what? He was still speaking, still too soft to hear. That beating heart fell to his stomach when the lieutenant turned around again to face out, looking to the grand expanse of ice falling away into the ocean. Those glazed eyes were trained on the storm clouds flickering in the distance, and Kylo, for the life of him, couldn't figure out why. He could barely even think.

The pressure at his temples was blindingly painful, and the brief flashes of white could be snow just as easily as spots in his vision. His mouth felt odd, dry and somehow tangy, and there was a nauseating buzz in his ribcage, a sort of tingling. He felt sick and that ringing in his brain wouldn't stop and Hux was about to step off the roof to reach the storm and leave him and Kylo had never been alone before. He didn't know how to imagine loneliness, didn't know how to imagine a world without Hux, didn't know how to imagine. His Armitage, his lieutenant, he was right in front of him, he was walking towards the wall, the wall kilometers and star systems wide and the sound was from battle hammers shaking its base, mighty forces intruding, breaking in and through on both sides. His brain had ran directly into that wall anytime he thought too hard about the man Hux loved before, the man he wasn't, the man he hated, hated, couldn't be. Hux was crossing to the other side, and he couldn't cross the gap, couldn't follow, couldn't reach him, couldn't, but he was right there standing on the roof not a meter away. Hux was speaking, he was reaching out again, for the ocean, and  _ Force _ , he couldn't  _ hear _ .

Hux leaned out just far enough to lose his balance.

The Force responded like a trained muscle, quickly and accurately and without a thought. Hands over his eyes, his ears, his mouth, down his throat to crush his heart, around his neck to strangle him and  _ that _ felt familiar, felt like someone had done it before. Black water snaking through his fingers, through his body, casting his mind in shadows. Kylo reached out his hand, easy as breathing, and he was breathing, was standing fine, was free. It was only his soul caught in the snare, and the bonds were natural and homely, like putting on a well-worn sweater or changing his socks. Just as soon as his foot had slipped, Armitage was pulled back again, back to the roof, back to the room, back into Kylo’s arms with an impact that shook them both. The black water vanished and his head was clear and quiet and Armitage Hux, his lieutenant, his protector, his world was safe again.

He was safe and he was everything.

 

Kylo was there and he was falling, falling, he was going to die, and cold coiled around him like ice water, burning his skin. A great gust of wind, then warmth, and the door shut behind them and everything was quiet. The storm was locked outside where it belonged; there was nothing but the pounding of Kylo’s heart against his ear and his own shuddering breath, safety in strong arms that would keep him from falling to pieces. The frame was already broken. Now the glass was, too.

 

_ I know who you are. I know your name. _

_ I know where to find the lights. _

 

And those weren't his thoughts he was hearing.

 

Hux’s skin was still faintly crystallized, coated in a light shimmer of frost. Kylo doubted he could feel much anymore by way of physical touch. He was too cold, and the flux in temperature was calling blood to flow faster and flush his skin. He was staring vacantly at the view beyond the glass and breathing shallowly, still trained on the sea and the storm so far away.

“Armitage,” Kylo’s voice was unusually gentle; the whole ordeal had brought out a tenderness he didn't understand, couldn't make sense of. Ben wasn't gentle. Ben wasn't careful or kind. He didn't have time to consider where such emotions and urges came from, didn't have the energy for it. Armitage was stiff in his arms, wrought with tension, and Kylo tried again, saying his name softly in their little bubble of space. Nothing. He tried one more time with a somewhat firmer edge to his tone. “Armitage, look at me.” 

Hux wasn't responding. He hadn't even reacted physically in any way, as though he hadn't spoken at all. Kylo took him by the face and checked his eyes for dilation; they were blown black. Shock. His gaze dropped to his lips, blue and pale and red at the corners, blood on his chin, still wet, and that was worrisome. Kylo checked his teeth: red. It wasn't from the Evaluation, then, or at the least hadn't been tended to properly. Hux couldn't have been out there longer than a few minutes, five at least and ten at most. If Kylo had been a little faster, he could have stopped him from going out at all.

He shouldn't have waited in the med-bay.

Kylo knew, from the unexplained recesses of knowledge tucked in the odd corners of his mind, that droids wouldn't be much help here. He had to get him downstairs and calmed down. Kylo would be unable to rest until he was satisfied that Hux was breathing properly, and warm. He would process the headaches later, if he could manage it. The nausea was gone, the strange taste, the vibration in his bones; all that was left was a lingering tightness at his throat, as though a noose was thrown over his head and the floor would give out any moment.

 

It was about an hour before Hux was settled enough to sleep. He had only really spoken in confusing fragmented sentences, but the effort kept his heart from skipping beats, so Kylo was willing to listen. He talked about a bridge and a voice and a boy in the glass, warned of monsters in the darkness, eyes watching from the shadows, lights in the water, cracks in his mind. Kylo was unsure if he was delusional or half dreaming. He decided he didn't care, and prompted Hux with simple questions until he had curled up against his side like a cat, quiet and docile and so tired.

Kylo checked his temperature one more time to make certain he was alright. His chest was rising and falling at a slow pace and his coloring was finally normal; he would be fine, despite the worried circles his junior lieutenant paced. Kylo hoped more than anything that he slept and stayed asleep. The fear of what Armitage might do if he woke up alone made him not want to leave, but there was little choice.

In a few hours, Kylo had to run the drill evaluation himself; he supposed they would have to do a training beforehand, so everyone was on the same page. He needed to be certain he knew the correct code and could direct it as well as he could follow it, and Hux wouldn't be there to make sense of it all. Before then, though, he had to find out what was going on. They had passed their specialty evaluation, defeated Phasma spectacularly, and Hux had presumably gotten his due reward of renown and extravagance. Somehow, though, he had also managed to get wiped from the record, kicked out of the database before evaluations were even over, and gotten Kylo secretly promoted, not to mention the episode on the roof.

By this point, Kylo was coming to accept that the attachment he had to the lieutenant was more than just residual fondness. As much as Ben loved him in his own twisted way, Kylo had come to care for him, too, and it was a crippling liability. The thought of what would have happened if he had waited a little longer to investigate or if he hadn't caught him in time made the sick feeling flood back full force. Armitage would be a mess of red on the ground now. Kylo would be completely alone.

What could have happened in that arena to spark such an extreme reaction?

He carded his fingers through that soft red hair, tempted to kiss his forehead. Kylo resisted the urge to climb into bed and shield him from everything that hurt, everything he couldn't control. There would be time for that later, maybe, when Hux was more himself. In the meantime, he and Phasma needed to have a talk.

 

\----------

 

He hadn't meant to take that step.

Armitage had been in his room as directed. He only really did what he was directed, directed by the Academy, directed by the General, directed by Phasma, directed by Ben, but Ben wasn't here now and all the others had forsaken him. Armitage was alone, and the voice in his mind, so persistent now, kept reminding him over and over.

 

_ No one wanted you before the bond. Now that Ben is gone, it's exactly the same, isn't it? Only you can see it now, you can see how everyone really saw you, really used you. You're just a serial number: a faceless, nameless, meaningless digit on a roster. The bond is dead. There's no escape anymore. You're alone, you're nothing without him, you're nothing, nothing- _

 

Armitage covered his ears as if to block out the noise.

 

_ I know who you are. _

 

He frowned. The voice was different now, deeper and quieter, yet somehow overriding the other.

 

_ I know your name. _

 

Armitage sat up and set the pillow aside, looking around the room for a speaker or something. He'd left his holopad downstairs. There was nothing else in the room save the beds Kylo had pushed together the night before, an empty trashcan, and their bags, contents strewn over the floor from his rush that morning. There was nowhere to hide a hologram, no tech to send a message.

 

_ I know where to find the lights. _

 

The copper flooded his mouth and sparked, burned. It made him cough with the intensity of it, and a sudden cold fell over the room. His heart picked up.

 

_ You're nothing without the bond, Armitage Hux. _

 

His teeth were chattering now. He glanced out the window- it was closed. There was a blizzard rolling in, but no reason for such a drastic temperature drop. He gathered the blankets closer, bundled up and hid under the sheets, but they offered no warmth. His throat was burning with the blood taste, and it was blood now, not the storm, not the lightning, but thick, sour blood that was hot enough to sting sharp like needles when he swallowed. Hux found himself breathing with his mouth open, only feeling the cold against his skin.

 

_ I can give it back to you. _

 

It was like the bond, but off. It felt wrong. Ben had been warm and heady with power, electricity crackling in his ears and energy swarming him. This was sticky and cold and upsetting. He felt ill, even.

 

_ I can feel you reaching for it, Armitage. I can mend the link you've broken. _

 

His mouth was thick with cotton and he couldn't speak.

 

_ Do you want it? _

 

Stars, yes. He'd felt so crushingly alone without it, was beginning to think he'd imagined it. Kylo was the only thing that kept his mind off of the Force, like a crutch for an addict, and he was gone; they'd be separated soon. He'd be left to spiral into that void and never return, when Kylo ceased to ground him planetside. He was afraid to be alone, never wanted to feel it again in its gaping awfulness. That reality was what faced him now, in just a few days. Displacement, exile, disgrace, sent to his birthplanet wherever that was and put in the lap of a family that never knew him, wouldn't want to. At least with that spot in his mind filled again, the echoes of it quieted with the real thing, he might be able to stand it. Ben might be gone, but Kylo would want him, did want him. Right?

 

_ Go to the water, Armitage. Look for the light-stone and bring it to me. _

 

He blinked and the scene had changed. Instead of his guestroom in the Evaluation Center, he was clear across campus, outside on the dock. It was raining. Fall. It was cold, too, he was still so cold, and the water felt like shards of ice on his skin. He wasn't dressed for the rain, was still in just his tracksuit and socks and the cold seeped everywhere. It didn't feel like he was dreaming, but it was difficult to think clearly. This was wrong, but he couldn't pinpoint why. Things weren't making sense but for some reason, that didn't seem to matter much. Why not? Isn't that something he should-

His mind went blank and a tightness in his throat made him dizzy, still scratchy from the needle-like stinging.

Rain. Cold, wet, Kamino. Dark. He looked up and there were the storm clouds with their light and their fire and water, so much water, and his mouth was so full. He parted his lips and blood came out and it was red and he coughed, spit it out, but it was still oozing from his trachea. It was so hard to breathe. There was a knocking, then, that made a hollow echo boom over the dock. Someone pounding their fists against a pane of plexiglass, an oddly specific conclusion. Armitage looked around to see where it was coming from, couldn’t understand, it was from everywhere, from nowhere. Someone was trapped, needed him. 

_ Show me, _ he said through a mouth of cotton,  _ I’ll find you,  _ and his voice echoed across the sky.  _ I’ll find you, I’ll find you, I’ll- _

Water. The dock was metal under his feet but the rain was gathering, the ocean swelling up and covering the dock, sweeping the buildings away.

 

_ Higher ground, child. _

 

And the voice was right, of course. He was so thirsty, wanted to drink and wash the metal from his mouth but he wasn't allowed, shouldn't,  _ don't. _

Higher ground.

And so up he went, up the bridge, but the bridge was made of stairs now, not like normal, not like-

Blank.

He paused on a step and looked out over the edge of the bridge. He wasn't high enough, the water was rising to meet him, swallowing the dock and everyone that had lived on it. He had to go higher, faster. The knocking was louder, closer, and its frequency corresponded to the mounting waves catapulting themselves over one another, colliding and falling away in a cataclysmic dance. Someone was trapped in the sea, someone he was running from.

By the time he reached the centermost part of the bridge he'd walked several times a day for over a month, he was too tired to grasp how much longer it had taken to get there. The ocean had been chasing him, but it was quiet now instead of the horrid roaring of the waves crashing, glass breaking in his ears over and over. Armitage had never seen Kamino still outside winter before. Normally, once the ice began to break apart, the sea was even more dangerous in its tumultuous way, tossing massive chunks of solid, jagged ice through the air and sailing down into buildings. Now, though, it rippled gently, only centimeters from spilling over onto the bridge. The knocking was quieter, slower to follow the softly wobbling surface of the ocean, and the rain had stopped. There was nowhere higher to go, but the water had stopped rising just as it had stopped storming. It was cold, still, so cold, and it was darker outside than it should have been for the middle of the day. He would have thought it was night, but even the clouds were blackened out of his view.

_ Darkcolddon’tunderstand- _

 

_ Hush. The lights are there, Armitage. _

 

And he looked and they were, a promising glow far out on the sea. It was too far, though. If he stepped off the bridge, he’d sink, he’d drown, he’d- Knocking again, and now he could see the someone, just under the surface of the water and the water was bound by glass, knocking to get his attention. He couldn't make out their face, it was too dark, but they needed his help.

_ This way, _ came the voice, and the knocking was more persistent now, distracting. What was wrong? 

_ It’s safe, _ the voice said, and Armitage couldn’t find it in himself to question. He wanted to, but the words wouldn't come. It was easier to ignore the knocking, ignore it, it didn't mean anything, didn't- Shouldn't he go back?

 

_ No _ .

 

So he stepped down from the bridge, centimeters from the surface of the glass, and he began walking with caution. He didn't know why he was so afraid if he was supposed to be safe, safe from what? And wasn't this odd, to be following orders he didn't understand? The knocking was louder the farther he walked, more frantic, and it frightened him, warned him. Warned him of danger, something was wrong with this, he shouldn't go farther, shouldn't listen, someone who loved him didn't want to see him here, someone who loved him, loved him so much, begging him to  _ stop _ \- 

Blank.

 

_ The light, Armitage. _

 

And the copper was back, his throat tight past breathing, and the cold was biting him harder. He was being buffeted by it, like wind, and it took everything in him not to stumble. 

 

_ We can free him, together, Hux-child. I can give you everything, if you only bring me the light-stone. _

 

The bond, the lights in the water, they were out there and he needed to find them, needed to get someone out from behind the glass, but who? Why? Everything felt so confused and he was afraid, wouldn't take one more step. Didn't want to. There, a spark of warmth that burned in the cold. He held onto it, even as it was snuffed out, stolen. The bond was there, it wasn't broken, not truly, and Ben was protecting him, trying to keep him safe from the monsters twisting his thoughts, trying to-

Blank.

“Armitage!”

He looked back to the bridge and saw a haze, flickering between white and black and- Kylo? And the bridge again, but he didn't trust it, didn't make sense.

There was a knocking under the glass that wobbled him some, but he didn't mind it, paid closer attention to the bridge, to the shimmery bits of the picture that no longer looked so solid. Kylo. He was there by the bridge and he was calling out to him, wanted him, and something about this wasn't right, warned him of danger he couldn't see. Kylo would know what to do.

“Over there,” Hux said, pointing out to the light, “It’s telling me to go there, but I don't-”

And the knocking was ear-shattering, the scape falling apart all around him. Danger. Go to Kylo, go to him, go home. Out of time, sorry, was wrong, I love you so much, I'm sorry, I broke it, I broke it, I broke it,  _ all my fault- _

 

Home is this way, boy. I will fix this mess and you will come to me.

 

His attention was dragged back to the light, back to the sea by a force he didn't understand, a clawed hand at his neck, going to break him if he wouldn't listen, would break him just like someone else who had failed. Had to go forward, had to give his Master the light, just touch it and all of this would go away. 

The knocking was shaking the panes of the picture, cracking white like lightning with flashes of snow on the other side. The whole image was shaky now, and everything that seemed so solid was breaking up.

 

_ It will be safe with me, _ the voice said, and Hux didn't believe it. The stone was safe where it was, only he could unlock that cage, could open it and free it for taking. Ben was wrong to tamper with what the Force had made for them, he opened himself to taking and was taken, Armitage would not be taken-

Blank.

 

_ Look down _ , Master said, and he did.

 

There was a glowstone there, under the surface of the water only a half meter away. It was so close, now, and reaching for this, here, wasn't so bad. He wasn't so far from the bridge that he couldn't turn back. He was alone here, save the boy under the glass- boy? Yes. Someone he wanted to see. Someone who needed him.

If he caught the stone, reached out a little further, everything would be fine would be fine would be-

 

Falling through the glass, through the water, through the air. He'd missed the light entirely, had failed, was going to be punished, broken. He hadn't meant to take that step.

Kylo was there and he was falling, falling, he was going to die, and cold coiled around him like ice water, burning his skin. A great gust of wind, then warmth, and the door shut behind them and everything was quiet. The storm was locked outside where it belonged; there was nothing but the pounding of Kylo’s heart against his ear and his own shuddering breath, safety in strong arms that would keep him from falling to pieces. The frame was already broken. Now the glass was, too.

 

_ I know who you are. I know your name. _

_ I know where to find the lights. _

 

And those weren't his thoughts he was hearing.

 

\--------

 

Snoke had been close, closer than he'd ever been. Solo had stalled, managed to get the attention of his counterpart, and Kylo, true to Snoke’s careful selection, had obeyed the orders inside his head. If it weren't for that, Snoke would have the other half by now, the Hux-child. His will over the bond would have been put dutifully in his hands, and all this fussing and playing would be over.

If Kylo hadn't been there to save him, the boy would have almost certainly come near death. Snoke couldn't resurrect anyone, not from the grave, but near it, when the Force-user was deep in meditation, he could steal away their choice and bring them back different, better, his. Armitage Hux and the well of power he was wasting would have been his forever, until he died and his apprentice could be trusted to wield it responsibly. The First Order would take over the galaxy with it, use it to its utmost potential, and Kylo would be ready by then. He and his strong-willed playmate would be prepared for the kingdom Snoke had built, and under his direction, would conquer everything there was.

Whatever had gone wrong here, Snoke would prepare for, and next time he would be successful. Armitage Hux would be reborn, and the universe would be his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nnnnnn we might have more chapters, I don't know if I can fit all this in just 3, if 15 is an epilogue...  
> I have a whole other murder to plot, dang it.


	12. Nineveh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo and Phasma have a "talk".
> 
> ie. the one where phasma is sassy, kylo gets real mad, and much needed fluff follows because the last few chapters have been ROUGH.

By now, all of the results boards had updated to display the most recent sector evaluations. Personal results were private, but as far as the sectors were concerned, it gave everyone peace of mind to know where they stood on the chopping block, and in what areas they needed to improve. There were four categories, each corresponding to the core evaluations: combat, drills, leadership, and weapons training. Each was tested by every sector, save leadership, which was only between the twenty-four specialty unit lieutenants.

On every screen in the building, the results were displayed and updated every two hours. At the top of the list, below Weapons, it read S12 and S18 for the top grade Specialty, followed by S3, S2, S6 and S9. It was the Combat column Kylo was interested in, however, and the bright white S17 in the very first slot, ranking superior. There were twenty seven witnesses, and a judge, that could testify against that ruling. It wasn't close, it wasn't a tie- Phasma had lost, terribly and indisputably, and yet she had wiped Hux from the record. It was a bigger problem than he had originally thought; if Hux wasn't graduating, there were only two alternatives left to explain his erasure, and Hux would die before leaving of his own accord. That only left one.

Phasma had managed to get him expelled.

The halls weren't particularly thick with traffic, but the students that did populate the common areas were all some degree of frantic or exhausted. They were either dragging their feet or rushing, and the variant of speeds made the whole Center difficult to navigate without a specific destination. Kylo was somewhat unsure where to look; he didn't know Phasma nearly as well as Armitage, but as far as that was concerned, Kylo wouldn't let her within fifty meters of him if he could help it. Kylo wondered briefly where he would go if he were a backhanded, honorless parasite who had just betrayed his one ally and underwritten every code of conduct he had vowed to uphold, but came up blank.

He supposed that with Armitage out of the way, Phasma was either celebrating or training for her next evaluation. Knowing what Armitage had told him about her, though, and his few encounters with her, she wasn't the type to zealously overprepare. She was proud, haughty, and had just assumed a major personal victory, not to mention that she was also licking her wounds from a private loss. She was most certainly parading her success, if not further slandering her opponent.

The most socially appropriate place for such behavior was, of course, the mess hall. It was lunch time besides, and Kylo had sent S5 there himself. Almost everyone would bear witness to whatever show Phasma was putting on, and all ears would be fine tuned to every word she said. They would believe her; Armitage wasn't there to defend himself, only proving Phasma's claims of cowardice and defeat. As Kylo stalked through the halls toward the cafeteria, focused and murderous, the students nearby gave him a wide berth, whispering as he passed. His was the most famous face in the Academy, known for foul play and unpredictability. As of an hour or so ago, he was a rightful, official lieutenant, and one of two major contenders for a spot in the Knights of Ren. Phasma, now named and branded and official, was part of the Specialty Training Program. She was going to be a Captain one day, was already on the track thanks to favors she was owed from higher ups. Her promotion left him, stand alone, as the most powerful opponent on the base. If they were scared of him before, now he had people petrified, and the change in rank was already affecting his social impact. Stars, he hated this place. His exact memories of growing up here, or anywhere else for that matter, were fuzzy at best, but the contempt he felt for every living being present was genuine. His own sector was a slight exception, and Armitage was the only one truly exempt.

His reception on the way over was nothing compared to the immediate silence that fell over the mess hall when he entered, and Kylo planted his focus firmly on Phasma at the center of the room. He hated being looked at and seen, judged, hated the attention. Armitage flourished in it, took it in and bartered with it like a merchant. How he was comfortable in this, as they certainly attracted this level of attention all the time, Kylo couldn't say. He was only grateful his lieutenant had shielded him from the worst of it for so long.

The continued scrutiny was seriously putting him on edge and he grit his teeth, energy still churning in him from using the Force on the roof. The shadows were still slithering in between his fingers, propelling his feet forward and building a black pyre to burn in his anger. He hated school, hated the people in it, hated the rules that made living here the way it was. More than anything, though, he hated Phasma, so much, and if it weren't for Armitage and everything he'd worked for, if it weren't for sparing him the clean up, Force, if it weren't for Armitage, weren't for him-

Kylo would dismember her with his mind and strew her insides along the rafters and her blood would drip everywhere, everywhere, like rain.

Phasma was sitting with some of the other lieutenants from the Combat Specialty units, along with her second in command. Conversation had picked up some since he'd come in, but not much. His own sector still had their eyes trained on him, confused and seeking answers, but Kylo wasn't here for them, not yet. The lieutenants’ table stalled in their own talk when it became clear where he was headed, and it was Phasma who stood to greet him first, like a friend.

Stars, if it wasn't for Armitage.

Kylo didn't much hear her professional address, something about no hard feelings, and settled for punching her in the face instead. To be fair, he'd planned much worse, and the execution he'd mapped out in his mind was still very possible.

Phasma was cursing and yelling at her second for a napkin and her lip was split, blood pooling, and her teeth had clipped the skin of his right hand but that was fine. Kylo barely felt it.

“We're talking, now,” he grunted, and the crowd was buzzing around them. Phasma was grimacing in obvious pain and someone, Kylo didn't care who, was supplying her with tissue to stunt the blood soaking through one napkin after another. Kylo wondered of he'd knocked a tooth loose.

“AR always said you were smart,” she snarled, taunting. “‘We're talking now,’ oh, are we? Thanks for clarifying, I was confused.”

Shoving the kid aside was easy enough. Kylo took Phasma by the collar and yanked her in close. He was out of patience, and thanks to her, short on time to prepare to lead an evaluation he wasn't trained for. His voice was harsh and biting, the Force spilling out of his mouth when his body kept the worst of the rage contained.

“Armitage isn't here to save you from me, and I can't be bargained with.” He threw her back into the table, the other students scattering to make way. “I hate you, I don't give a damn about disciplinary action, and tearing you apart would give me the utmost satisfaction. I wouldn't strangle you, or throw you over the bridge, or poison you, and you're a smart girl. I think you know that.” His voice dropped to a low, dead monotone and Phasma was cornered, caught in the unwavering black of his eyes. “I'd set aside a few hours. I'd cut your vocal chords so you couldn't scream. I'd tear you open with my bare hands and gently pull your organs from your body while you were still breathing.”

Phasma was bracing herself against the table and a nearby chair, trembling slightly, and her words were a whisper. “You're crazy,” she breathed, and Kylo could hear her heart beating at lightspeed. Blood was still oozing from where her teeth had split flesh, trailing red down her chin and neck and disappearing under her uniform. Phasma didn't move to stop it. She didn't dare.

“You're coming with me, and you're going to tell me what you did.”

“There's no way I'm-”

Kylo had her by the jaw, and why no one was interfering was beyond both of them. Perhaps they all saw it as an arms match, the new top dog establishing himself in the pecking order. Accidents were common amongst higher ranks. People who stuck their necks out too far went missing, and Phasma had just burned all her bridges. No one would save her, and everyone knew whoever tried would have the Son of Vader to contend with.

Kylo's grip on her face was punishing, and the bruise that was already likely to form on her chin was in danger of spreading further than before. “ _He tried to jump_ ,” he spat, low enough that only she could hear, and if it was possible, Phasma paled. She didn't say a word. Kylo released her, scowling, and walked away with as much dark energy as he had entered with. As he passed the table S5 was at, he barked a simple, “Training, forty-five minutes,” and the unit nodded. They had seen SV1632 like this before, though maybe not so concentrated. They knew better than to push.

It wasn't long before Phasma was following him, and Kylo was minutely surprised. Maybe she wasn't entirely scum of the galaxy. He went into one of the smaller training rooms used for isolated practice and leaned against the back wall, seething. The door tentatively opened; Phasma and her crusting mouth slipped in. Someone had helped her clean the worst of her face with a wet napkin, and while the blood was gone, the red blotches where his hand had been were dark in some places and white in others. She hovered by the door; Kylo’s expression was carefully blank.

“Tell me what you did.”

“I didn't-”

Kylo glared at her and she fell silent. Phasma folded her arms over her chest and avoided his gaze, looking at her hazy reflection in the metal door.

“This all started a long time ago,” he continued. “I know he hasn't been honest with me about everything, and I know whatever happened today was your doing, so don't give me any more reason to snap your neck. You know I'd love an excuse.”

“No wonder he prefers you; you're _charming_.”

Kylo snorted. “If you talk, I'll stay over here. I don't have anything recording,” he emptied his pockets, Hux's holopad definitively off and set on the floor. “Talk, and I won't hurt you; you can leave first when we're done, I won't follow you or jump you and I don't have anyone outside who knows we're here. Don't talk, and I'm sure you can imagine.”

Phasma's stare was level and guarded, gears turning as she considered the danger verses the reward. “Think of it as one of those arrangements you like so much,” Kylo offered, albeit snidely. A few moments passed, and she gave.

“Fine.”

Kylo relaxed a little, but not enough that he wasn't prepared to make good on his threat. He had experienced her strength firsthand and knew she would give him a solid fight if he let her.

“I made an agreement with the General. I knew AR wouldn't hold out on his end of our deal so I made one with someone who would.”

Kylo nodded thoughtfully. “What deal did you make with Armitage?”

Phasma weighed the consequences of lying and determined it wasn't worth it.

“I would keep his obsession with you a secret if he stayed in my corner. I'd give him a vial of Camidryline once every few days and he'd slip it into the food to boost performance in your dock.”

“Armitage doesn't cheat.”

Phasma sneered, “He does whatever I tell him to. He always has.”

Kylo considered that, thought of how vulnerable Hux was when he'd first woken up. He remembered how flighty he had been, and how closed off he'd become just days after. He could see Hux taking orders out of obligation, watched him do it all the time. He listened closely as Phasma continued.

“He broke off our partnership,” she shrugged, as though it couldn't be helped. “The bottle I gave him yesterday was Achloridite powder- I wouldn't have done it if he'd just been honest. It doesn't matter anyway, he didn't use it. Achloridite reacts badly with Cami, it's toxic. Your whole unit should have been physically incapable of fighting, you should have been disoriented and half drunk on steroids, but you weren't. Obviously.”

Kylo had taken S5 to breakfast this morning. Hux didn't even have the opportunity to keep his word, but if he had, well. Kylo worried his inner cheek. “You're psychotic, but that doesn't explain why the result board is wrong, or my promotion, or why Armitage is being suspended. It is just a suspension, right?”

Phasma shook her head. He cursed. Kylo pinched the bridge of his nose. They would be separated, then, probably permanently. Already, they'd been apart long enough to make him antsy, and that was only marginal distance. He could hardly imagine what whole planets would feel like, entire systems stretching between them. He sighed and looked to the ceiling, as if the answer to his problems was hidden in the panels of plaster. He was afraid of being alone himself, but imagining Hux alone, scared, knowing he'd have soothe himself after those nightmares he wouldn't talk about, knowing he'd have no one to protect him in the rare event he needed it, knowing no one would remind him that the darkness didn't have to be forever made everything so much worse. It tore at him, fearing the unknown for himself, but knowing Armitage would hurt was an entirely different pain. They'd be lost, both of them, but Armitage would suffer most.

Kylo chuckled humorlessly. “You have no idea what you've done to him,” he muttered. “You have no idea.”

“I didn't think he'd react like that,” Phasma murmured defensively, and if Kylo didn't know any better, he'd say she was remorseful. “I knew he'd be upset, but I thought he'd be working out a way to fix it by now.”

Kylo was seriously reconsidering keeping his word. He waved his hand dismissively, eager to move on from the subject. He would handle that later, when he was less tempted to break bones. “What were the terms of your agreement with the General?”

Phasma paused then, and Kylo looked at her. Her mouth was swollen and he knew it probably hurt to talk, but not badly enough to stop. Kylo rephrased his question. “The terms of your agreement. Tell me what they were.”

Phasma swallowed and glanced at the door, then at him. Kylo cocked his head slightly, poised to strike, and she opened up all at once.

“I've got dirt on him, it was blackmail. He'd promote me to AR’s spot, you'd take the lieutenant’s place like you wanted, I thought we'd be even, and then AR would be completely discredited- but quietly. He could still rebuild from this if he wanted to, I didn't block off all of his options, I-”

“They'll send him to Arkanis!” Kylo bellowed, breaking his promise and crossing the space, too close to her. Phasma braced herself against the wall, no time to defend herself, no time to do anything more than prepare for impact and too far from the keypad to unlock the door. Kylo's hands were iron on her wrists, stronger than she thought possible, and she couldn't move. Kylo was livid. The practice rooms were soundproof, private. He could do anything and no one would know to stop him.

“I'll be on a ship Force knows where, training under the Supreme Leader, _leading the Knights of Ren_ , and he'll be tucked away in a closet somewhere- assuming the General doesn't have him killed for political embarrassment. He could be dead in the street by summer.” Kylo was red in the face from holding back the typhoon of black water, and if it weren't for Armitage, weren't for him, she would be- He consciously loosened the pressure of the Force in his hands. He didn't want to crush her. He'd made a promise, and at least half of it he could keep. For Armitage. She was terrible, but she was his friend. Hux cared about her, and the injustice of that had him snarling like an animal. Kylo's voice dropped to a whisper. “His life as he knows it is over, don't you understand that?” He searched her eyes earnestly, “I had to stop him from ending it early. What was his ‘option’ out of that?”

He was angry enough not to bother waiting.

“Don't answer that.”

Kylo scowled and punched in the key code as quickly as possible. The door didn't open nearly fast enough, but she was gone in a moment.

The practice room imploded in a ground-shaking crash.

 

Training went smoother than he thought it would. By the end of it, Kylo was calm and at ease, his only worry Hux in the bedroom three floors above them. The evaluation went even smoother; S5 had his back, and followed the correct protocols and formations even when he called the wrong ones. He was glad he'd decided not to hate them.

The moment the evaluation was over, he left his junior lieutenant in charge (Force, having a junior lieutenant of his own was surreal), and made directly for the S5 section of the Combat Specialty Unit floor, and from there, his bedroom. It was empty. For a moment, his heart had stopped, but then he heard water from the bathroom and relaxed. For the first time, he noticed blood on the floor. It was dry now, but Kylo remembered the lines of red drooling from his mouth on the roof and frowned deeply. He understood why Armitage would want time to clean himself up. Kylo still wished he'd been here to help him, though.

The door to the refresher opened with a sigh of steam and Armitage walked out, a towel around his waist and a toothbrush clenched between his teeth as he dried his hair. He paused when he saw a figure in the doorway, but relaxed when he realized who it was. His eyes were tired watching Kylo take a seat on the corner of the bed. His face was gaunt, more so than usual. He finished brushing his teeth quickly, probably rushing, and tugged on a pair of sweatpants from the pile of clothes on the floor. Arms folded, Armitage leaned into the corner farthest from the bed.

“Hi,” came the hoarse greeting, and Kylo’s heart broke.

“Hey.”

He stood to approach him, but at the slightest movement, Armitage shifted away the few centimeters he could. Kylo sat back down.

“There are scratches around your collar,” Kylo said, and there were. Points that looked like shallow claw marks lined his clavicle. No skin was broken, but the ghost of the shadows strangling him were brilliant red on the flushed hue of his skin, brought out by the shower. Armitage shrugged and turned his attention everywhere but at Kylo, who stood up and began to close the distance.

“Don't,” he protested, and then firmer, louder when he didn't listen. “I said don't!”

Kylo paused, less than a meter away. Armitage was staring at him, eyes wide and blue and angry and scared, then shame and he looked away. His posture was still tense and boxy, making himself small, but Kylo reached out slowly. Armitage flinched away, but when he saw that Kylo had stopped, too, he forcibly released as much tension as could. He let him cross the divide.

Kylo's hand was warm on his cheek, guiding his chin to him with pointed gentleness. Armitage still avoided his eyes.

“Armitage,” Kylo chided, and got no more than a glance. He clicked his tongue once or twice and the defiant look in his eyes when Kylo did see them made him smile fainty. Hux crumbled.

His vision swam with tears, but he hid his face in Kylo’s shoulder before any could fall, his arms still wrapped tightly, weakly around himself. Kylo let go of a breath he didn't know he had been holding and brought him in closer, his lips against his temple and nose in his damp red hair. Unconsciously, his grip around him tightened to crushing, and Kylo closed his eyes and focused hard on how solid he was in his arms, weeping and gasping for breath as Kylo held him still, held him together, imprinted the feeling to memory.

“I am so sorry,” he murmured into his hair, and Hux stopped breathing. He was sorry. He was sorry for all of it, sorry he wasn't there faster, sorry he wasn't there at all, sorry he had let Phasma slip through his radar, sorry he couldn't protect him the way he should have, sorry for being so distant, sorry for being himself, for not being what he wanted or needed, for Ben being gone, for not being Ben at all.

_I'm not what you want and you don't want me to change. You don't want me to try, you don't think I can even do it. You want me gone. You want Ben instead and I can't be him. I don't know how._

If I knew, I would do it. If you asked me, I would learn.

 _He loved you, I can feel it, and it hurts so much not being able to show you how much I can give, too, not being able to prove myself worthy of you, not being enough, not enough, never enough,_ all my fault.

And Kylo wouldn't cry, no matter how fiercely it stung. He didn't deserve catharsis; this was happening because of him. If only he'd never woken up, never forgotten anything, never loved him so completely and yet been incompetent to his safety.

 

 _It's not your fault_ , came a voice somewhere in his mind, soft and miserable. _It's mine._

 

The tears fell anyway.

“It's not,” Armitage agreed, and Kylo was certain he hadn't spoken. “It's bigger than us.” And the us Kylo wanted was Hux and himself, not Ben, not anyone else. Us was all Kylo hoped for. Us was miraculous. Us was divine redemption.

Hux pushed at his chest until he had enough space to reach his arms around his neck. He ran his fingers through that dark hair and smiled wearily at the tears Kylo was fighting so desperately. He pulled him down and pressed his lips to his forehead, cupped his face, brushed the tears away. Kylo wouldn't look at him, couldn't face him, couldn't show Hux how deeply this affected him, but he didn't push. Instead, Armitage's words were soft, his touch softer, as though Kylo may break.

“I chose you, remember?” And Kylo didn't. His eyes were confusion and hope and fear and Hux was smiling for real for the second time today; Kylo felt lightheaded.

“I don't want anyone else more than I want you. I don't need anyone else; just you. I love _you_ the most. I'll never trade you away. You're mine.”

Kylo nodded, didn't trust his voice. He'd break down if he tried, a sobbing mess of grief and gratitude on the floor.

“My sentinel.”

He laughed, then, and Kylo looked away. Armitage dropped his hands to his chest and waited, and when he felt more collected, confident enough that he could say what he needed to, Kylo looked back. Armitage was mischievous, tired but playful, but the fondness Kylo felt for him doubled.

“Do I get to hear what I am to you, oh, brave and noble Knight?”

Kylo shook his head and chuckled quietly to himself. “You?” His hand came to trace his jaw, hold his chin up in that way he knew sparked his lieutenant’s bones with anticipation. “You, Armitage?”

“Yes,” and stars, if he wasn't breathless. "Me."

Kylo could feel his pulse fluttering under the pads of his fingers and it made him so happy, and it did, it was happiness, knowing his sentiments were mutual.

Kylo smiled, and he lit up the room and the sky and the whole galaxy.

“You're everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, 5 more chapters.  
> I swear there's a conclusive end to it. Just got to enjoy the ride, man. There's whole 1/3 of the arc left.  
> It ends when it ends.


	13. Altar to the Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one likes to say goodbye, not when Season's Greetings are so cruel.
> 
> ie. the one we've been avoiding forever. kylo has more feelings than expected. hux is numb.

The next two days were a blur. Armitage spent his hours alone looking out the window and brooding over the episode on the roof. He had already told Kylo all about the waking dream, the rain, the stairs, choking on his own blood. Kylo made him go over and over it until Hux was sick of talking. He had locked himself in the bathroom for a little while and brooded there instead. His apology was only half-hearted, but so was his anger, and the make up sex was a nice distraction from the looming guillotine dangling precariously above their relationship. It was sad, though. Everything was, now. He had little appetite, and sleeping just felt like less time with Kylo, a waste. Kylo himself didn't have the heart to correct him, not now. Under normal circumstances, such behavior wouldn't be tolerated in the slightest. Kylo would have force-fed him and bullied him until he went back to his usual self, but with so little time between them, the fighting wasn't worth the trouble. His efforts were light, a reminder every now and again disguised as a passing remark, and Hux's responses were just as plain, taking one small bite of everything on the trays Kylo brought from the mess hall and then pushing them away. It only got worse when he realized his things were still at the dock. He had few personal possessions, everyone did, and he'd been shocked into silence knowing that Ben's journals, his sketches and algorithms planning _Starkiller_ , even his unfinished homework was going to be thrown out. After the end of Evaluations, he would have no home, no reliable family, no money, and no possessions of his own. They may not let him keep his clothes, even. Everything he had, save his intellectual property, belonged to the First Order, and he didn't.

The fastest days had the longest hours. S5 was packing up after a broadly successful evaluation. The season was at an end, and at midnight, the Winter Season would officially begin. By then, Armitage would be in isolated holding. Even though he was no longer lieutenant, he knew the boys still looked up to him. It would be wrong not to tell them, not to guide and prepare them as a leader should. He secured each of them in their winter gear for the long trek home, and as they filed out one by one, they would salute him if they wanted, or shake his hand. Three new recruits would be coming in not long after the season began, greenies, thirteen year olds, to replace those that had moved on. It was of the utmost importance that they have a unit to come home to on their first days on the docks, and Armitage was insistent that they leave on time as planned. Kylo only watched from the sidelines with that quiet fondness until it was his turn.

They had said their own goodbyes the night before, staying up late and into the morning. Armitage had put his mounting despair aside then and threw himself into talking and daydreaming for the little time they had left together. Why he had waited until then to share those secret things with Kylo was beyond him. He had the rest of his life to mourn and grieve. There, in the arms of someone who loved him, he wouldn't allow himself the luxury.

Time was truly up. Kylo stood before him, dressed fully and accurately. There were minor things Kylo had intentionally left undone or put in the wrong place, and they made Armitage smile despite himself as he took the opportunity to fix them. All good things come to an end, however, and when Kylo was fully prepared for the walk, Armitage didn't drag it out. He was prepared to simply shake his hand, close the door, and be done with it, but Kylo spoke before he could.

“How would you access the damage, lieutenant?”

Kylo's eyes were smiling and sad and Armitage really wished he wouldn't, wished he would just go and leave him already, stop making this harder. He wouldn't, though. Kylo was stubborn enough that he'd demand an answer. Armitage played along.

“Repaired in full, sir.”

He worked to keep his voice level and professional, put all his effort into severing the last chord, but it didn't matter. It was Kylo who wanted to do this, and there was no way out of it now.

“Does my Knight find his compensation satisfactory?”

And the words were so silly and out of context that he smiled, he almost laughed and Armitage regretted it instantly. All of a sudden Kylo was hiccupping and his eyes were blurry and his skin was flushed and oh no, he didn't mean it, didn't mean to make it worse-

Kylo pulled him into a spine-crushing hug, still unbearably tight even with all the soft padding of the winter uniform. He hid his face in Hux's hair and closed his eyes as tightly as he could. He breathed deep, working to slow his fast-beating heart.

Armitage knew that if he pushed away even a little, Kylo would react as if burned, so he didn't. Instead he swallowed his own tears because one of them had to be strong right now and if it had to be him then he'd do it. For Kylo, he'd do anything.

“Thank you,” Kylo gasped wetly, and before Hux knew it, he was being cradled, face to face with his second's blotched complexion and puffy eyes and red-bitten lips and this was exactly what Armitage had wanted to avoid.

“I'm compensated,” Kylo whispered, and his voice was meek and it was all wrong, foreign even as his words picked up speed, “I am, I promise, but- but I'm not satisfied, I'm not, I can't,” and he was babbling so much, talking so fast Hux could no longer understand him. He hushed him instead, and at the tailend of Kylo's blubbering, he heard, “-to leave,” and “please don't make me,” and “Armitage, please." That was the last of it, Hux's gentle _shhhh_ quieting him.

“I don't want to do this...I don't want to go.”

Hux carded his fingers through his hair and felt Kylo trembling with the need to scream and cry and throw a fit, could feel him struggling to stay still and quiet.

“I know, Kylo.”

He felt the moment the sorrow became anger, the turn that meant Kylo needed to break something, needed to exhaust himself so he wouldn't feel the buildup anymore.

“It's not fair, Armitage, it's-”

“ _Kylo.”_ Hux snapped, and the boil settled to a simmer. Kylo closed his eyes tight. He was pliant in Hux's hands. “Look at me,” came the order and Kylo wasn't like Hux, wasn't defiant or challenging. He obeyed instantly, and watched the lieutenant soften.

“Everything is going to be okay, do you understand me?”

“But-”

“Kylo,” he chided again, gentler, and Kylo didn't want that, didn't want to disappoint him any more than he already had. “Kylo, I'm going to be just fine, and so are you. You're gonna go out there and do amazing and you'll be somewhere they'll have to recognize it. Everyone will know who you are; everyone will know your name, and it will be _your_ name, only yours.” He smiled and brought their foreheads together; Kylo could only listen. “And I'll hear all about everything you do, and I'll be so proud of you. Kylo, I'll be _so_ proud. And you know something else?”

Kylo furrowed his brow, and Hux's voice was soft, sharing a secret.

“I'm proud of you right now.”

Armitage’s last kiss was chaste and short; Kylo held it close to his heart, promised himself he'd remember it.

“It's time to go now.”

It took him a moment, but he nodded and Hux pushed him slightly, made him stand. Kylo avoided his eyes for the most part, couldn't do goodbyes a third time.

“Everything is going to be okay. I don't want you to worry about me, if you can help it.”

He scoffed. “I can't help it.”

“Kylo, I'm being serious,” and he had to heed that, had to meet his eyes one more time and make that promise because Hux was asking him to. “I need to know that you're hearing me on this. Am I understood?”

He nodded once, and the words were glass between his teeth. “Everything is going to be okay,” Kylo repeated. He didn't believe it, not for a second, but he would try. He would try for Armitage, because he had asked for so little and given so much. Kylo would try because he never could tell him no, not at the heart of things.

The smile he got in return was well worth it.

Armitage gave him his hat and his helmet, ushered him out the door, saying, “I love you, be careful, be safe.”

Kylo joined the others at last, gave Armitage and the wide doorway one more look. A gloved hand held his jaw, lifted his chin, and Hux held his breath only for a moment.

When he could breathe again, Kylo was gone, and at the end of the day, the word ‘goodbye’ never graced the air.

 

Armitage didn't watch S5 disappear on the horizon. He didn't bury his face in the sheets and pillows and trace everything Kylo last touched. He didn't cry, he didn't brood, and he didn't break anything. Since he'd found the glass in his mind, he had forged a new cage for his heart, made a new box and put everything in it. Everything. He knew it would burst at some point, knew that when it did it would be hell, but that couldn't be now. It just couldn't.

Phasma had come by some hours after S5 had cleared out, but Armitage didn't let her in. When he did open the door, after she was long gone, he found a package with a note that read, ‘A peace offering’. He couldn't bring himself to open it, but when the General of all people came to collect him, he couldn't bring himself to leave it behind either.

Armitage was clean shaven and pressed and tidy, the image of upstanding professionalism. His physical appearance was the only thing he really had left, anyway, and that liberty would probably be taken soon, too. He'd make the most of it.

General Hux looked down at him as though he were a mite; Armitage pretended to be unbothered. Their walk to the surface level and, from there, to the rovers was silent, nothing but the rhythmic clipping sound of their polished shoes in time. It wasn't until they began driving that conversation picked up, and Armitage dearly wished it hadn't.

“If it weren't for your shameless indecency, boy, you could have lead millions,” the man said, and Armitage wasn't sure where he was going with that, didn't understand why the General felt the need to discuss what was already said and done. “You've ruined your future, you know. I can't save you if you insist on condemning yourself, AR0046, and-”

“With all due respect, sir,” and he was very much tired of this uplifting exchange, “If you hadn't left such a sloppy paper trail of your own crimes, Phasma wouldn't have been able blackmail you and furthermore,” he turned from the rover window and looked at the object of his address, bored. “She would have been unable to sabotage me by and through He of Such Grand Integrity, you. We would be having a very different conversation otherwise, I think, and what did she get on you, anyhow?” He guessed, playful and wicked. It wasn't as though there were other stress outlets lying around. “Infidelity? Fraud? Oh, was it embezzlement?”

“Young man, I would warn you against testing your limits so frivolously,” the General spat through gritted teeth. He had always hated children, and this one was especially irritating. A waste of potential, most definitely. “I am all that stands between you and desolation. It would serve you well to behave appropriately.”

Armitage snorted, like Kylo would, and the reminder burned him. “Am I behaving inappropriately, General? My apologies, I'd hate to seem uncouth.”

It was meant to come out baiting, like Phasma would say it, but she was gone, too, and he had thrown away his last chance to say goodbye to his only friend. He should have tried to forgive her, no matter how deplorable her actions. Now he never could.

“As much as I'd love a spontaneous father figure, I'm afraid you've come a little late.”

Instead of rude, his words were bitter, and miserable. That seemed to be more along the lines of what the General wanted to hear, he supposed, because the drive was silent as the grave after that.

 

When they had said his holding place had yet to be decided upon, he hadn't considered that they wouldn't decide at all. Despite his usually impeccable foresight, that was exactly what happened, and Armitage found himself on a ship bound for Arkanis, a place he hardly remembered, by nightfall. It was surreal looking out the window and seeing a spotted mass of cold black sky instead of an ocean, a storm, or a bridge, and while he'd always wanted to explore the worlds outside the Academy, outside Kamino, outside anywhere, the circumstances under which he was doing so soured the experience.

The General wasn't piloting the ship, of course he wasn't, but he had refused to be in the same room as Armitage for longer than necessary. He had to admit he was grateful; there was no one to watch him get sick after jolting out of lightspeed. Sitting in the back hangar alone gave him an opportunity to think, and he took it to consider his apparent next of kin. Brendol Hux was cold, clinical, and all around unpleasant, but no matter how many years Armitage had spent telling himself that familial relationships meant nothing in the face of career advancement, the fact that his own father seemed to hate him got under his skin. Someone he had idolized not long ago wanted nothing to do with him, seemed disgusted by him, and reminded Armitage of it with every look and sigh. The fact that he had to go to Arkanis at all- the idea of facing his actual blood family had only ever been a childish pipedream- was beyond his logic. Yes, the General was technically his father, and yes, the Academy had displaced him, but why they had felt the need to thrust him into the man's very unwilling care seemed to be nothing if not careless.

The General was going home until his summons for the Victor’s Welcome, where he'd have to chaperone the Academy's finest graduates, the top three lieutenants of the three Specialty Divisions. He was supposed to be there, with Phasma. They shouldn't have been matched against one another, and he knew that was her doing, could feel it in his bones. They should be together just like they'd always planned, no matter the fight, but Phasma pushed him out permanently. A relationship that broke protocol should hardly be enough to warrant even a detention, not on the first reported offense. He should have gotten a warning, a slap on the wrist, not a noose. Sending him away with the General was just a complimentary unstable chair to help him along. Armitage supposed while the General was away with promotional ceremonies that he should be attending and handing out honors that he deserved, he would be trapped on-world in an entirely different system than the one he'd lived in most of his life, stuck with people he should know but didn't. He would be able to see a holofeed of the event, if the household was generous enough to lend him a connection, and watch Phasma cross the stage, watch Kylo follow after. Heaven knows what Phasma was thinking promoting him; if she'd just asked, either of them would have gladly informed her that Kylo was already stamped and approved for his apprenticeship. He was going to be replaced as lieutenant hardly a week from now, and he would go off and conquer the universe- even though that was what Armitage had always intended to do. Kylo would have helped him overthrow the Supreme Leader. He would have supported him in establishing a firm handed government that reflected the ideals of the Galactic Empire, probably. He would if he'd asked him to, at least. In return, he would love him, of course, and let Kylo do whatever ‘finish what he started’ was, should he want to. The phrase was written over and over in Ben's journals and scribbled in book margins, outlined in bulletpoint lists. He thought it was something about balance in the Force, equilibrium in the galaxy or other; it didn't appear to interfere with his own aspirations, so Armitage hadn't studied it in depth. None of it was possible now, anyway, not without exceptional bloodshed paired with a miraculous procurement of resources and political support. It would give him no peace to dwell on it, besides.

Even thinking of Ben in the briefest of senses was enough to remind him of the aching void in his mind, magnified only that much more by Kylo's absence. Without the bond to tie them, the link in the physical world was all that kept his mind straight. It had been mere hours, half a day, and already the edges of the long abandoned nest were gnawing outward, seeking their occupant. _Mad with grief_ , Ben had said. Thanks to that handy new box, Hux wasn't feeling it just yet, not yet, but it was coming. Madness was coming just as real and blinding as the Kamino rain, and now that he'd lost everything, he no longer feared the downpour.

 

Arkanis had a sun.

It wasn't real until they made atmosphere on a new planet, he had been able to pretend until then, but this was too much for him to imagine. It was really happening. He was off-world, disgraced, Kylo was gone forever, and Arkanis had a sun nearing the horizon.  It made sense why Armitage had longed for one so badly in the dreamscape he and Ben had built together; his earliest experiences in life were captured under this warm, brilliant light, and the distinction between night and day was so clear that it dazzled him, the sky dimming and revealing stars before his eyes. Kamino shifted in temperature slightly, not by much, and the clouds may have been slightly brighter or not, but the passing days were nothing like this incredible rotation of color. As soon as he'd set foot outside the ship, Armitage just wanted to stand and marvel. There was soil, and plants lived in it. The buzzing that whizzed past his ears were insects; the incessant chirping and cooing bouncing back and forth between the trees were birds, not like droids at all. He had read about worlds like these, seen pictures and feeds and holograms, taken tests on their ecosystems, but the overwhelming activity of it was nothing like simulations. A whole world, fertile and bright, was a lot to take in. Naturally, he was half shoved into another cold hunk of metal before he could gather his wits.

This vehicle the General did drive, and his tone was gruff and businesslike. “Your mother was a passing whore; you are not to speak of her, ask after her, or mention your parentage beyond necessity. Your step mother, my wife, will not see you. You will not seek her attention and you will not make a nuisance of yourself, is that clear?”

Armitage was stunned into silence at the blunt manner of address, paired with the flashing colors just outside the glass.

“Boy, I asked you a question.”

“Armitage,” he corrected, and the reply was sharp.

“What?”

“My name,” he muttered. “It's Armitage.”

The General laughed, and the sound was harsh in his ears. “I can't recall your given name on a good day, but if you have to pick something, at least let it be reasonable.”

Normally, he'd have fuel to counter that, but Armitage was still reeling from the thought of his mother- he had a mother, was she alive? - and the distinct characterization of her in the eyes of his father: worthless, a nuisance. Stars, he really was unwanted, wasn't he? It was a fact, something he'd known from the start and read over and over in the General’s letters, but hearing it, coming face to face with it was still unexpectedly startling. He hadn't known that he had lingering hope enough for that, at least not enough to hurt as much as it did.

His attention shifted violently to the General when a dead stop came just shy of his head slamming into the dashboard. When he looked, though, there was no air traffic, no obstacle. There was no reason to stop other than to throw him off balance.

“You will listen to me when I'm talking to you,” sneered General Hux, his voice cutting through the ringing in his ears. He'd daydreamed through another life lecture, probably. Somewhere, he thought his father was probably the kind of man to beat him if he thought Armitage would learn by it, but there wasn't space in his head to process everything all at once. Armitage was dazed from the stress of the day, the whirlwind of information, and the, “Yes, sir,” was mindless auto-response. The General seemed satisfied enough.

“Is she dead?” Armitage heard himself asking, and he felt out of his body. He realized he hadn't eaten today, had packed S5 through breakfast and dismissed them through lunch, and that explained the motion sickness on the ship. He counted himself lucky that the General didn't swat at him or floor the breaks again; he wasn't sure he could avoid vomiting if he was unexpectedly swung around a third or fourth time today.

“You are not to speak of her, do you understand? You insolent child, I've specifically told you-”

“Is she dead?”

There was silence, then a sigh.

“I don't know.”

He didn't believe him.

“Now be quiet, I want to forget you're taking up useful space.”

Armitage, for once, didn't resist and didn't seek a loophole. Instead, he did as he was told, and was quiet.

 

\---------

 

He broke the bridge, although broke may not have been the best description. Kylo had focused all of his energy on the walkway connecting the S17 dock to the rest of the Academy. He took his time isolating the main supports. He warped them just enough so that, finally, when the entire structure collapsed, it came down hurtling, irretrievable, into the sea. He watched from the center of the S16 dock as the massive panels of metal fell airborne, breaking through the ice in some places, and protruding like spikes in others. Phasma and her band of cheating hypocrites were trapped on their dock until further notice, unless they decided to walk the ice. If that was the only retaliation he could afford, he would take it. It wasn't as though he could be punished, as he'd found with tearing apart the study room in the Evaluation Center, and he and Phasma both were leaving soon anyway. This minor inconvenience was the least he could provide in exchange for the perpetual hell that awaited him in the foreseeable future. The endeavor was satisfying enough when Phasma discerned his involvement. He'd even gotten an abrasive message on his holopad about the issue, and he'd expressed his condolences for such an unfortunate incident as sarcastically as he could. Their own bridge had been cleared of ice and was entirely functional; if no one else could reach them, the most he could do was offer his well-informed advice.

The man who spoke to him in his mind had already made clear that his training was to begin in mere days, and Kylo was as ready as he could manage. He'd been able to stay in Cabin 1, since he was authorized now, but it was bizarre sleeping in their bed alone, and even stranger, picking things to take with him when he left. In his clearest memory, the cabin was the only place he'd really slept, and never by himself. This, a full day now, was the longest he'd gone without a supervisor and every minute that passed made it longer. As far as mementos for what was essentially his life, his mind hit a blank.

Most of Armitage's notebooks were gone, maybe lent out or something, but strangely, he couldn't find any of Ben's things either. Kylo himself had just relied on Armitage for everything. Armitage was always there and always prepared and if Kylo provided emotional support, then Armitage took care of everything else. Together, all their bases were covered. Apart, well. Here he stood, without a clue of how to proceed. There was no one to prompt him or tell him what to do, no one to disagree with. There was no one to follow. For the first time in his memory, Kylo really had to decide for himself and follow through of his own accord. He supposed he had been given one last directive. Hux has told him to leave his mark on the galaxy. His actions had to impact far and wide enough that wherever Armitage was, he would hear about him, Kylo Ren and no one else, and his lieutenant would be proud.

Kylo would find a way to manage that if it killed him. In the meantime, he would just have to determine how.

 

\-------

 

Family life was exactly as Armitage had come to expect: confining and abhorrent. When he and the General made it ‘home’, he was brought in through a back entrance and manhandled into a little room upstairs where he'd remained hours since. For all the effort put toward his invisibility, Armitage wondered if Mrs. Hux knew he was here. Did she even know he existed?

Such questions mattered little, however, because the minute he was left alone, Hux was looking for an escape route. As tired and woozy as he felt, his mind was still quick enough to register that he couldn't wait for his hearing, not if he was planetside in a whole new system he could hide away in. A future in the Order was impossible as he stood now. Little was known about him in the first place, and the General would likely demand that evidence of his existence be erased entirely once he went missing. He could forge a disguise, start over, enlist the traditional way and work his way up. His vision for a new empire was still possible if he worked hard enough for it, if he learned to cut corners as Phasma had been trying to teach him all these years. He could do it if he planned carefully and watched his steps, and someday, when he was successful enough, he could reveal himself to the public if he wanted. He could find Phasma and they would finish the job together, like they'd always planned. He could find Kylo. Everything could still work, could still be perfect, could still-

There was that nagging void in his head again, itching at the back of his mind. He knew if he slept, he would dream, knew it like he knew there was no real way out of this. He was trapped in mind, body, and heart, and without the bond, there was no hope of breaking free.

Eventually, he did have to sleep; it was all he could do to stave off the hunger. His dreams were what he'd expected: broken glass and screaming, and endless depths of black water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end of this branch of the story, the first in a series. The next relevant half I'll write separately. Cathedrals was orignarly only supposed to have two arcs anyway; trying to stretch it more only made characters muddy and writing drag on.  
> There's more to tell, it's place is just elsewhere.


	14. Redemption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new home, a new story.

Kylo had always been kind of a space heater, but even for him, this was warm. It was stifling, actually, he could feel cloth clinging all around him and in a burst of movement, Armitage found himself blinded and hiding his eyes. The sun. He could breathe now, but even that felt hot to him, every particle floating through the rich air a toasted gold in the light, pulled into his lungs and warming him further. Stars, he was so uncomfortable. When the colors dancing behind his lids had faded to a livable sheer, Armitage opened his eyes slowly. Even his hair was bright, like fire in his face with the reds and oranges and golds, and he sighed. This wasn't like home at all.

The morning, he assumed it was morning, cast the otherwise dull room in a soft sheen of yellow, lighting up angles and shapes that were oddly appealing splashed over the grey furniture. Even the white walls were pretty, and he was sure if he looked out the window itself, if his eyes could adjust to the incredible brightness, he would fall in love with what he saw. He'd come at the cusp of night and had only caught the faintest glimpse of the color and life of this world, his homeworld, and just that had been enough to dazzle him. Arkanis in its full bloom, it was summer here, he'd gathered, was surely breathtaking. That alone was enough to make up his mind. 

Armitage didn't look. He didn't want to like it here, didn't want to find beauty and comfort in this place that was so far from where he should be, in the icy darkness and roaring winds of Kamino. The deafening crashes of summer and fall and the mind-numbing silence of winter and spring were the only extremes he was familiar with. This medley of song and sound and quiet was as unsettling as it was lovely, and as unavoidable as the sun. The light shone through his skin and glowed red; no matter how earnestly he covered his ears, the noise pierced through. If Armitage could shut it all out, he would. He would take back the ice and the storm and the hail that drew blood if it meant he was free. The stress and anxiety and generic misery were worth the promise of possibility. All of the emotional havoc and nightmares were worth having someone beside him, whoever they were- someone who wanted to be there. The warmth and light and life of Arkanis were nothing less than damnation. No one wanted him, and no matter how beautiful the package isolation came in, the despair burned just the same. Armitage refused to enjoy it.

That bitter ugliness turned slow circles in his stomach and he clenched his jaw, shoved the sadness deeper into the box the same way he did his face into the pillow, blocked the light, the birds, everything. He would hate this. He would hate it with everything he had, but he would put it to use. Depression was no motivator, but anger was, hatred most certainly, and Armitage would feed it with anything he could find. Hate was what would get him out of here, paired with all the love in his bleeding heart blazing inside him and crying for justice.

Phasma he could forgive. He had to, else he'd lose his soul- if there ever were such a thing. He would need her in the future, would have to rely on her to some degree even if their trust was broken. Trusting her at all was his first mistake; however, he couldn't seek her aid if he hated her entirely, and so he simply had to let this go. She owed him, though. She owed him big. 

The General was easy, so easy to hate. The General would be at the center of this energy, the General and the First Order and Arkanis and the galaxy. One he would kill, the next he would rebuild, Arkanis he would destroy, the galaxy he would rule, and there would be no mercy at his hand. Never again. Ben had made him soft and vulnerable, had dulled his teeth and tamed his bite. Kylo had reminded him of his weakness, and losing him had reminded him of his strength.

Armitage would regain his hard-won prize and reap his revenge over and over. It would never be satisfied, never be finished, and he would never be stopped. Kylo should be his. The Order should be his. Armitage would fight for them both, fight for love and hate and justice and anger. He would fight for Kylo and Ben and the soul bond driving him mad, and even if all the rest of it incinerated in hell, he would win.

The covers had all been thrown to the floor and he wore nothing more than an undershirt and boxers, his star-white skin bouncing rays into his eyes, and Force, he was still hot. Yes. It would be easy to hate Arkanis.

There wasn't a bathroom in here, so no refresher, no mirror, and most importantly, no toilet- he couldn't even brush his teeth, and his mouth tasted terrible. He was hungry enough to eat his right hand, he couldn't write with it anyway, and dragging himself out of the bed he'd slept embarrassingly well in gave him a headache. That may have been his fault, though. A combination of dehydration and plotting to take over the universe tended to pain a person. The gravity seemed to shift, his brain sloshing around the soup in his head when he stood. It could be his body adjusting to the new atmosphere, or air pressure. It could also be stress, or a result of his past few days of self-destructive behavior. In any case, Armitage was in a foul mood and felt even worse.

Discarding the General’s sinister warning about drawing attention to himself, he knocked on his bedroom door- loudly. Everything was quiet out there, and if his welcome wagon was to be understood, no one would be coming for him unprompted, so he would have to help himself. Help was outside, food was outside, bathrooms were outside; he needed to go outside.

When knocking and yelling didn't work, he considered the possibility of his room being soundproof. Brendol Hux was a sketchy character overall and Phasma had dug up something big enough that she had felt comfortable blackmailing one of the highest ranking officials in the reigning body of government. Armitage would be unsurprised to find that he'd stashed his secret bastard child in a soundproof room, knowing the nature of the acts that warranted catering to a sixteen year old girl. Feeling stupid for a second, he checked the moulding of the door for a keypad or any kind of manual opening mechanism. There was nothing; it may have spared him the personal embarrassment, but he was still stuck.

Armitage turned and scanned the room again. Bed, mattress, covers, pillow. Dresser, empty, grey, heavy. Desk, attached to the wall. Chair, grey, heavy but not unliftable. The ceiling had a vent. The window was framed in boring grey drapes that were nowhere near thick enough material to block the light, which he resented on principle of situational irony.

The vent was too small to wiggle through, or at least would be a squeeze, and there was no telling where it went or if he was light enough to go through the system at all. The window was a flat plane of glass, no opening, no lock. He glanced at the chair.

Perfect.

Armitage was unapologetic in his blatant disrespect of his father's property. He'd reached a new low as far as self-preservation was concerned, and anything the General or the Order decided to throw at him, he would handle. In the meantime, he would throw his ugly chair out of his charming prison window and escape.

It wasn't plexiglass, he was mildly surprised to find, and shattered easily. He hadn't pegged his father for a taste of finer things, especially when constructing holding areas- and why wasn't his wife concerned about the hotel-esque jail space upstairs? Was this the only one? Regardless of the details, the General had used expensive, genuine glass in the absolute wrong place, and the rainbows shattered over the wood floor (genuine wood, wow) were a quick reminder of the fact that he hadn't put his shoes on yet.

There were no cuts, thank the Force, but it was a near thing. He'd managed to lean over just enough to drag the blanket nearby and cast it over the mess, enabling safe mobility. Armitage dressed quickly, threw on his tracksuit without the sweater or pants underneath due to the weather, and ignored the fact that his hair was terrible. It was rampant and untamed, long enough to curl just a little above his eyes. That wouldn't be a problem if he had a comb, some water, and a bit of gel, but such luxuries came with bathrooms, which were unavailable. How Kylo managed to ignore the strands of his own hair catching on his eyelashes or itching his nose, he had no idea.

His boots crunched the glass beneath the blanket, and mutedly, he hoped he wouldn't be expected to sleep with it now that it was decidedly hazardous. Armitage took the sheet and draped it over the edge of the window, to spare his hands the glass, and used the curtains on the sides to do the same. He looked out. Three stories up, a little ledge at the base of his window with a sloping roof that went out about two meters. There was presumably another one below it- but if not, it wasn't an awful fall. It wasn't the Evaluation Center roof. He took a deep breath, and briefly reconsidered. He wasn't one for reckless behavior, didn't like risks up close if avoidable, and was much more suited to the waiting game than direct action; this was potentially very stupid, and could likely result in injury, not to mention he would most certainly be in trouble with his guardian, whom he couldn't run away from just yet because he had no supplies or lay of the land. All this for a bathroom. Armitage considered the alternative choice, waiting and hoping for the best.

Armitage climbed out the window.

It was a room at the back of the house, and it looked out over a massive yard full of trees and flowers, finely tended to. The gardens could be his stepmother’s- the General didn't have a delicate bone in his body -or they could just be for show, maintained by droids or hired hands. He didn't give himself time to think about it.

He was sliding down the first ledge at a speed he hadn't anticipated, saved only by his flailing hands and thick, rubber grip boots. There was a shower of shingles that fell in gentle tinkling, cushioned by the grass, but no real noise. The sky was brilliantly blue and the ground wildly green, the flowers gatherings of red and purple and white. The sun was, well, a sun, and its light covered everything. Armitage couldn't allow himself to be taken in by it, though, as he sat dangling precariously over a non-fatal but reasonably far drop. He glanced up at the window, with his white sheet hanging halfway out. It wasn't too late to go back. He looked at the ground and spotted an awning for what looked like a patio of some kind. Armitage jumped.

This fall was much harder, and the metal roof of the awning shivered under him, residual tremors from the crash of his impact. The noise had made him wince and the shock of it was radiating dull pain up his legs to his hips, but he was no more than four meters up now. It was still higher than he was generally comfortable jumping, ever, but it was manageable. The grass looked soft enough, assuming he didn't miss it and hit the classy cobblestone path that meandered the decorative courtyard, but again, he didn't think on it too hard.

He tread a little more carefully this time and slowly worked his way backwards over the edge, lowering himself as best he could without falling again. His arms were trembling with the effort to keep himself from sliding too quickly, lest he lose his grip, but when he was as far down as he could go, he screwed his eyes shut, knuckles white on the very edge of the platform.

Armitage let go.

This time, he managed to catch himself feet first, but still collapse onto all fours. His entire body was screaming at him. He already hadn't felt well, and every muscle told him his misadventure was overkill; with a groan, he rolled over onto his back and lie still. The sky was still blue. Grass, something he hadn't really seen outside of botany class in his generals days, tickled his nose and he sneezed. Pollen? The sun disappeared behind a cloud and it was still bright out, but no longer unsettlingly so. The screaming dulled to rude complaints he could ignore, and, hating himself more and more, Armitage picked himself up. He looked up to his window, the sheet still billowing out of it.

There was no going back now.

 

\---------

 

_ You are distressed, apprentice. _

 

Kylo had worn his footpath into the Cabin 1 floor. He had a clean record and his personal freedom, as well as a stable position. By most accounts, he should be fairly content, but without his lieutenant, every success was empty. He was powerless to change his situation, couldn't help, couldn't do anything and it drove him wild that Armitage wasn't there to think of a solution, lay out the details and present them in a way he could understand. Master had been talking to him more and more, something that only really happened when he and Armitage were apart, and with him gone, there was no getting away from it. The voice came again, harder to tune out.

 

_ I see your heart. It weighs heavy. _

 

Of course it did. Armitage was gone. He didn't know how to describe it, didn't have the words to explain what their relationship had been. There was love there, but it was deep for Kylo in foundational ways that made up his entire world; Armitage was all he knew. He cared for him when he'd woken, useless and scared, and patiently filled the memory gap as best he could, even if it was vague. He silenced the voices in his mind, all three of them: the beast with too many hands and the toll-chime medley of the bells. Kylo trusted him; he could give Armitage all of his hurt and confusion and know that Armitage would fix it. He trusted him because nothing else was solid. 

Sometimes he saw things that Armitage assured him weren't real, things that slithered out of the ether pool in his mind and clawed at him in his sleep. They were real, though, and gradually the beast had started to pry at him while awake. They clawed at Armitage that day and pulled him off the roof, made a believer out of him. 

Since then, the trauma of that day was reflected in Hux's every angst-ridden stare out the window. Since then, Kylo couldn't unsee the wide, glazed eyes of the boy who stepped off the edge of the world.

He understood the dock incident now, why Armitage wouldn't talk about it, why it haunted him. He didn't recall himself, could only catch snippets of vague retelling, but sometimes Armitage would look at him, touch his hands or his face and lose himself in the horror of that memory. It made sense now. Seeing the claw marks and bruises at the base of his neck gave Kylo nightmares.

Since the episode on the roof, the ringing had never truly stopped. Armitage was lost, floating away, and without him, there was no buffer. Now that he really was gone, the noise was all the time. It wasn't loneliness itself that frightened him, but being alone with the beast and the bells, ringing, ringing, ringing with no one to quiet it or distract him. 

Everything he built to make sense of life was picked apart brick by brick without anyone to help him uphold it. With Armitage to validate him, he had built cathedrals. In less than three days, he allowed the hands of the beast to tear them down. Separation didn't hurt because of the pulsating severance in the center of his thoughts. It hurt because of the wreckage and the scatter. There was no one to draw up the blueprints, no mortar to secure the stone, no color in the glass. His mind was falling apart all around him, and all he could do was watch.

 

_ Speak to me, Kylo Ren. I am your Master and your Father; I have made you what you are. _

 

Not true.

 

_ I did not create you for misery, child. You are made for power and strength; you are a sword to be wielded, and in time shall forge your own champion. _

 

Power. Armitage wanted power. He craved it. Kylo didn't know what to want, could only really make sense of things enough to follow orders. Master claimed he was made to be wielded, made to be controlled and used. Armitage wouldn't like the sound of that, would tell him not to trust it.

 

_ I will give you control, Kylo. I will give you power over Knights who cannot wield themselves, are not strong enough.You will be their cornerstone. _

 

Kylo was coming to understand that Master and the beast had the same voice.

He saw glimpses of leading before, could vaguely recall the rush of power and ability that authority lent him. Ben had loved it. Ben had been as greedy for power as Armitage, had done things to get it that the lieutenant would never do, not with his own two hands. Armitage wanted power he could bide in secret, power like the ocean waiting beneath the ice that, when the ice was weak, would dismantle the structure from below. 

Ben didn't care about that, didn't care if people liked him or suspected him or punished him. He didn't take the time to plan or manipulate. He was like the beast in the water, the one with claws and too many hands. Ben ravaged others the same way his parents, his friends, and his Masters had ravaged him, and he liked it. There was anger in his heart; perhaps Kylo could come to like it, too.

Kylo considered his options. The promise of that adrenaline was tempting. He wanted the privilege of knowing as much as possible, of making up the rules. The life he had no control over, that frustrated him so much, that forced him to rely on Armitage in ways that made him feel guilty and useless and angry- Master was promising to fix it.

His Master was offering him claws of his own.

 

_ You have decided, _ the beast said, and it was true.  _ You are worth more than your predecessor. Ben Solo was weak and undeserving.  _

 

And Kylo wanted that to be true.

 

_ My champion will not fail me.  _

_ Should you choose his path, I will destroy you as I did him. You are strong now and I will make you stronger, but know that I who built you can burn you. _

_ I who granted you life can take it away, and from your body and your strength I will forge a new sword. _

 

For a moment, the noise fell quiet. Kylo stopped pacing.

 

_ Think less of what I can do to you, Kylo Ren, and more of what I can do for you. _

 

And that was something Armitage would say. If he refused, Master was threatening to shatter his mind, wipe him clean and trap him the way Ben was trapped somewhere deep in his subconscious. Someone else would take his place, and he would be dead. He would never see Armitage again, or if he did, he wouldn't be awake to know. Armitage would see this body and meet someone new, all over again, and his heart would break a third time.

If he accepted, he would learn the tools he needed to become invincible. He would lead and be important and he would fulfill his promise. With such power, he could undo what Phasma had done. He and Armitage could be together again. Kylo could ensure that they were never parted longer than a day, could protect him with all the might he didn't have now. Someday, he could repay him for everything he'd given- if he accepted this offer today.

 

_ Why wait for someday? _

 

Kylo's brain stalled and he broke his vow of silence.

_ What? What do you mean? _

 

The voice was smug, and something in him said to be cautious, but he pushed that thought away.

 

_ Come to me, and I will return he who was taken. Beneath my wing, you will be together again. _

_ All you have to do is say yes. _

 

That was the end of it. The rest didn't matter, not in the face of that reward. Armitage was everything, and a simple ‘yes’ would bring him back. Power and prestige were just added bonuses. If it could really be so easy, if he could just pledge his loyalty and gain everything he lost, given the freedom he wanted, wouldn't he be a fool not to take the opportunity? To refuse was death, erasure, prison. Why suffer that when he could avoid it all and become the weapon his Master needed? It was a small price to pay, wasn't it? Anything was, if it was in exchange for life, liberty, and the only person he'd ever known to love.

 

_ Will you be my champion? _

 

Kylo shook away the nagging suspicion, closed the door on the echo of bells. This was his best option.

_ Yes. _

The deafening toll of the bells pierced his ears with force enough to blind him for a moment. It brought him to his knees. There was splitting pain at his temples and he didn't understand. This was good. ?

 

_ It is done,  _ Master said, and Kylo heard but only just. The monster with too many hands had stopped poking and scratching at him. Instead, it coiled itself around him and through him, sheathed its horrible claws and made itself comfortable, as though its place in his mind was open and waiting for it. It settled so peacefully, one might think it had been there before, but Kylo couldn't say. He could barely think with the punishing wrongness he felt. Black water rose and swallowed him up, the ruins of his castles sent to the bottom of the sea. Bad choice, bad choice, bad choice cried the chorus, and the voice of the bells were anguished. Kylo didn't understand- this was what he wanted, this was best, this was- and  _ how could you do this to us? How could you let him in?  _

_ We're lost now, lost like before. You could have stopped it, stopped it like I didn't. _

_ You were supposed to be stronger. You were supposed to protect him. _

_ This is _ all your fault.

 

Someone who loved him couldn't reach him; someone who was him he ignored. All was as the Supreme Leader had decreed with such surety, and there was no going back.

It was done.

 

\-------

 

Walking through the front door would have been both spiteful and hilarious, and Armitage took a moment to reflect on his sudden mischievous streak. Rebellion had never been his style, not to this degree, but he supposed Kylo or Phasma would disagree. They both seemed to think he was the Academy's favorite little anarchist.

As much as he would love to wreak havoc in the household, he couldn't take that kind of risk, no matter how satisfying it would be. It wouldn't be worth being denied what he came out here for. Basic galactic rights demanded proper care, and if the General wouldn't provide it, he would have to take it for himself.

He had been right, the awning he'd jumped off of was above a patio. It followed the vintage aesthetic of the rest of the courtyard, with wooden chairs and a deck. Dated, but charming. With the patio, though, came a door to the house. The building was huge; there had to be doors all over the place.

Now that his soreness had died down, Armitage was on his feet and scoping out the area for a less conspicuous entrance than the one right in front of him. He supposed he could try to find the door he'd come in through last night, it had been a back entrance as well, but the thought of waiting any longer than necessary put his carnal senses into a frenzy. Hunger and thirst were the number one priority. Armitage pressed close to the wall and peeked into the window next to the patio door. He couldn't make out much; while the curtains weren't much for blocking light, they did wonders for the human eye, and it was hard to say what part of the house he'd be entering. Could he even come in through this door? Was it even open?

Armitage checked through the sliver of visibility between the curtains one more time; there was no one that he could see for sure. It was a parlor of some kind, perhaps a sitting room. A den? Armitage dismissed his curiosity. No one was watching for him here, that was what was important.

Stepping onto the deck was like walking into a minefield. He felt like any moment, someone would catch him; his steps were tentative, but Armitage went as fast as he could bring himself to go. Past the chairs and flower pots, he held his breath and lifted the top of keypad- he hoped the buttons didn't chime -and sighed in relief. It was manual. Armitage hadn't seen many manual door handles in his time, but his father's apparent affinity for the classic had come in handy yet again. He had no idea how they didn't get robbed. Armitage turned the handle to ‘open’, and it caught. Manual lock, as well. He didn't know much about picking manual locks, but he supposed it couldn't be much different than diffusing a bomb or disabling a failsafe in weapons specialty. That was where he'd trained longest, at any rate, and knowing how to manipulate mechanisms he couldn't see clearly or at all was a must. He crouched down to look into the keyhole, got a general sense of what he was working with. Force, he hoped he still knew how to do this.

 

A pin off of the front of his tracksuit and a few pricks to his fingers later, Armitage heard a click. The door slid open to reveal a kitchen nook and sitting room, cozy for a house that was otherwise so big. He stopped dead.

A blonde woman in her forties stared back at him in abject terror. Despite it still being early morning, no later than 0800 hours, she was fully dressed and put together in a black chiffon dress and full makeup. She would remind him of Phasma, but her eyes were brown and bloodshot. Armitage was the first to speak.

“He put me upstairs,” he blurted. “My door was locked and I was really hungry and-”

“I knew it,” the woman interrupted. “I knew he came home last night.” The shock was leaving her and Armitage was a tad concerned. This was the General’s wife. Would she call her husband? Would she lock him up or put him in the street? Hand him over to the police? Mrs. Hux finished pouring the sherry she'd been preparing before; Armitage hadn't noticed it. First thing in the morning, full hair and makeup from the night before and already drinking. He wasn't entirely sure what to think.

“You may as well come in, Lucivious.”

“Armitage.” The correction came out before he could stop it, and he winced. The woman only gestured indifference and indicated toward her glass.

“Drink?”

Armitage blinked. It wasn't until she waved him in that he remembered his feet and moved them. The door slid closed. Mrs. Hux had taken out another glass, but before she got any farther, he spoke up.

“Water. -Please. I mean, thank you, but-”

“Your mother wasn't bright either.”

That shut him up. Her tone was grave, but she brought him what he'd asked for. Armitage was surprised she wasn't using droids for all of that, but remembered the courtyard and the genuine glass. Maybe it was her doing after all. Armitage stared into the glass as though it could explain the absurdity of what was happening right now.

“Don't be surprised that he forgot you. I haven't seen him since he left for that awful school function a week ago and I'm married to him.” She scoffed, talking more to herself than him. Armitage drank his water and tried not to gulp it, but his stepmother didn't seem to notice, continuing with her bitter address. “The bastard ran out as soon as he got home; he only cares about himself, you're not missing out.”

“Mrs. Hux?”

“Rhona.”

He swallowed. “Rhona,” he began. She refilled his water unprompted. “Would you happen to know anything about my hearing? About what they've got planned for me?”

“Not a clue, sweetheart. What did you do to get yourself in this much trouble, anyway? You've got to be in trouble if they sent you to us; everyone on the board knows we're the last people that you should be with.”

He put that last comment out of his mind, already knew that, already knew he was unwelcome.

“I was set up,” he muttered, and the truth of it made his blood boil. “A friend stabbed me in the back.”

“They do that,” Rhona mused. She saw his eyes scanning the cupboards and hummed, turning to a keypad on the wall and typing a sequence. A drawer slid open with a soft shushing sound. “We're in my corner of the house. I only have snacks here, really, but they should do until I can send for something from the kitchen.”

His thoughts scattered when a tray of sweetbread was placed in front of him. Rhona leaned her weight against the counter and watched him, bemused, as all of his attention went to sating his hunger as quickly as possible. She'd always wanted boys of her own, remembered the fight that came with suggesting she and Brendol pass him off as theirs. If they'd ever managed to have their own children, they would be Armitage's age now. He looked enough like Brendol that she could pretend. Even his anger mirrored his father. It was no wonder Brendol wanted her as far from him as possible. She would have insisted they keep him, no matter the scandal, and Brendol would have hated them both. He already disliked her plenty, but at least she wouldn't have had to tolerate him alone.

“I suppose you want to know about your father,” Rhona began, but Armitage cut her off.

“He's a slimy coward,” he snarled, and the words came out more bitter than intended. He toned it down, lowered his voice and turned his eyes to the wall. “That's as much as I needed to know.”

Rhona didn't say anything for a moment, just looked at him and thought.

“Your mother, then,” and her tone was carefully light.

Armitage didn't want to seem too eager. As casual as she seemed, there was still an elegance about his stepmother that compelled him to try and be more respectful toward her. No matter his efforts, it seemed his desires were too plain and Rhona saw right through him. She sipped her sherry.

“Her name was Shira, she was a kitchen girl. Too nice, a tad flighty. About eighteen, I think, not much older than you. How old are you, by the way? Fourteen?”

“Seventeen. Almost,” and if that didn't sound juvenile.

“I'm older than I feel, then. The General was older than her by ages, more than ten years certainly, and,” she paused, chose her words carefully, “I didn't like her very much. I'm sure you can understand.”

Armitage nodded.

“Anyways, Shira was wild about your father, was head over heels in love with him. They were so obvious, it was disgusting. Passing notes, midnights in the garden, all of it. Brendol had her wrapped around his pinky finger; she would do anything for him. One night, there was a dinner party.”

Rhona looked directly at him, her next words pointed.

“It's very important you listen closely to this part, Armitage. I don't want any misunderstandings about this affair. Your mother was practically a child when this happened.” She sighed, “So there was a dinner party, and all of the very most important men were there. There was the General- not your father, he was Senior Lieutenant at the time -and all of their colleagues, I can't remember what it was about. Your father hated the General, though. He was very ambitious, and he trusted your mother to do as she was told.”

“He made her poison someone,” Armitage finished numbly. Rhona nodded.

“When that was done, he fired her. She ran off in tears. It was horribly stupid of him since she was a witness, but he hadn't thought that far. Brendol has never been very sharp. 

“By all accounts, everything was over. Your father framed some poor sap and took the General’s place in a week. Shira was out of our hair for good. I thought we could rebuild our marriage again, ha. ...Then she came back. Said she was pregnant, threatened to confess the murder, et cetera. Your father couldn't kill her so he bought her a house.”

Rhona was giggling, though Armitage couldn't say what was so funny. The General was a terrible person, of course, but he didn't know if he wanted to hear the rest. Brendol Hux couldn't bring himself to murder a pregnant woman; did he deserve a medal?

“You came along, and there was a lot of fighting. You and your mother stayed in that little house a long time before Brendol finally did anything about it. I think you were three or four when we sent you to the Academy.”

Armitage frowned. “What happened to her?”

They both turned when the door to the rest of the house whooshed open. His heart went to his mouth and he couldn't breathe. The General stood in the doorway. His cruel eyes skipped over Rhona and went directly to him, and all Armitage could thing if was how likely he was to get out if here in one piece. He couldn’t fight him, not without risking serious injury, and navigating the house alone would be impossible. If he made it to the garden, he could find a way off the property. General Hux didn't care nearly enough to chase him out in public. Armitage glanced at the patio door.   
The General scoffed, disgusted. He had known exactly what he was thinking, and his words were harsh. “Run and you're dead, boy. It's no wonder you were so easy to demote,” he sneered, closing the distance between himself and his wife. “Soldiers who can't take orders are like wild dogs. They're better use dead.”   
  
Rhona braced herself against the counter, but otherwise didn't betray any fear. Ever so slowly, Armitage was inching himself off of his chair to make a break for it. His patience would run out soon and then the man would come at him, he was sure of it. All that was keeping him from the General was thirty centimeters of stone tabletop; it would only be too easy for him to reach out and drag his feather light body over the counter. Still, Armitage restrained his urge to bolt. As intimidating as he was, the man didn't look like he was going to attack him. After Rhona's story, the character of the threat he felt most pressing was more than capable of doing terrible things. Armitage was nothing to him, nothing more than an obstacle or an eyesore. It would be easy for him to hurt him, it would be so simple. His stare hadn't broken, and Armitage was caught in blue eyes just like his. What was he looking for? Armitage got his answer from his father’s passive aggressive grumbling.   
“If it wouldn't cost me my head, I'd wring your neck, but as it stands, we'll be spending a little more time bonding.”   
Armitage was scared to ask, watching the way his hands clenched into fists. He watched his tension and logged every movement to prepare for a hit if he had to. He could take damage, had been doing it his whole life.

“I leave for the  _ Absolution _ tonight. You're coming with me.” The General scowled. “Supreme Leader Snoke’s orders.”


	15. Restoration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> According to plan.

 

The  _ Absolution: _ the First Order’s main military base and its largest ship. It was home to over two hundred thousand officials, and housed tens of thousands of scout and attack ships. Its hull stored enough artillery to lay entire systems to waste; the most advanced strategists of the Order dictated the fate of the war from its council rooms. The galaxy was divided in two, and the Order needed as many capable hands as they could get. Only the most elite of the military were stationed here, and should Phasma get her way, she would be on this ship a long time.

It took a lot of effort to ignore the newly christened Kylo Ren. They had been officially named at their graduation earlier in the day before boarding the ship, both enlisted at an officer's rank, and while this was supposed to be the best day of her life, she couldn't help but be bothered by her fellow victor’s behavior. She was bothered by his presence at all, actually. Any given year, there were only allowed up to three top lieutenants on the fast track, one from each specialty division. This year, there was only one, Phasma, with Kylo tagging along. He shouldn't be here. They were both from Combat Specialty. It didn't make sense, not to mention that he was only an Academy lieutenant for three or four days. The intercabin hostility didn't help.

Kylo practically foamed at the mouth when she got too close. His eyes were cold and empty; she could feel them on her from across a room, and if she looked back, Phasma caught a glimpse of her own head on a pike. The SV1632 she had shared a unit with years ago had been loud, tactless, and aggressive. If she hadn't seen him these past several weeks, she would have expected him to harass her. Now, as Kylo, she didn't know. Instead of attacking her, he watched her. Instead of directly making her life a living hell, things he should have no way of sabotaging would go wrong. She didn't know how, didn't believe in all of the space magic “Force” nonsense Ben Solo had convinced half the school he had control over, but she knew he had everything to do with the near catastrophic accidents that had plagued her since the end of Evaluations. The bridge collapsed, a beam had nearly crushed her on the graduation stage, and now, she was trapped with him in a massive but enclosed vehicle in the cold heart of space. Leaving Kamino in pomp and flair was supposed to be the greatest achievement of her career, a grand beginning to an epic legacy. Kylo Ren made the first several hours aboard the  _ Absolution  _ feel like a funeral parade, her every step carrying her toward her own execution.

She had been able to ignore him on the flight from the Academy, but now that they were aboard the base, here, together, in their bright new uniforms and sandwiched into quarters of their own-  _ together _ -there was no way to avoid the murderous tension. She was sorry. 

Phasma really was; she hadn't anticipated such a dramatic outcome, hadn't realized the degree of the consequences she'd inflicted. After all, she and AR had always played such games. She hadn't realized Armitage wasn't playing anymore. In the old days, she would have said that it was his own fault for not counteracting her plot and saving himself. She would have said he deserved it, but with Kylo glaring at her for hours on end and the palpable absence of AR staring her in the face, Phasma couldn't say it. She couldn't deny any accusation or deflect her responsibility. AR was the one person she had always thought would be there. He had always come back before, never bit the hand that fed him or struggled against the master that kicked him. Phasma had always gone just as far as she wanted. It wasn't until the look of absolute betrayal crossed his face that she'd realized the line crossed. He wouldn't see her. He wouldn't forgive her. He wouldn't listen to a word, and for once, Phasma couldn't bring herself to be angry.

“I don't understand how he could have ever trusted you.”

Kylo's voice was grating in her ears, angry and hateful, but Phasma put her tongue in cheek. “He didn't trust me,” she corrected absently. “If he did, then he wasn't as smart as I gave him credit for.”

Perhaps if he had leashed his dog, been a good boy and done his part, Phasma thought, this wouldn't have happened. She spared a glance at Kylo. He was, indeed, pacing the cabin like a caged animal, had been since their orders were dished out and a trooper had closed the door on them. 

It wasn't small, not like the drafty shacks of the Academy, but the walls were a deep grey and the furniture was black, and there was little light offered from the starry window. There was nothing to hide behind. Only three beds, three dressers, one refresher, and a little table beneath the massive sheet of plexiglass, all shoved to one wall or another. Kylo was tearing himself from one side of the room and throwing himself to the other, over and over again with his purposeful step. He was waiting for something- had never been patient. He stopped dead at the far side of the room and caught her eye.

Phasma had little doubt that, someday, his waiting would be up. She would die at his hand, murdered or felled in battle at his mercy and no one else's. Somehow, the resolution didn't shake her as much as it should have. It surprised her that, in that moment looking into the eyes of her only true match, Phasma was not afraid to die. From Armitage, it would be betrayal, even after everything she'd done. From Kylo, it felt like justice.

He looked away first.

 

Kylo worked to sort his thoughts. It was difficult not to panic under these circumstances, having no information and no sense of control. There was no time for to dwell on Phasma or his anger, no energy left to spend. Armitage was coming- but coming to what? The nagging sense of danger hadn't gone away, in fact had only intensified. 

Kylo had done the right thing in making his deal with his Master. His lieutenant’s career would be restored and his future would be secure, Kylo made the right call- except that every fiber of his person disagreed.

 

_ Ease your mind, apprentice. _

 

Kylo bit his lip and turned back to the black bed on the far left of the long, rectangular room. He was antsier than he'd ever been, at least as he could remember, and the silence from the back of his mind had been driving him insane. Water had drowned the noise. Ruins lie crumbling in the bottom of that sea and every pain that had blindsided him, the unprompted guilt that had left him in tears, was no more than an empty, muted pang from somewhere far away. Kylo couldn't help chasing it, though. With Armitage, the quiet was peace. Without him, though, the silence that came with that dragon entangled in his mind was booming, a loud and numbing blank. He felt as though he were missing something, something important, and this kind of emptiness hadn't plagued him since his first memory. Kylo hadn't felt so lost since day one, when a boy he didn't know was clinging to him for dear life and mourning him. Kylo was frightened.

He was terrified he would forget.

The voice of his Master, omnipresent now, came again into his mind.

 

_ I keep my promises, boy. _

 

He didn't doubt his Master.  That was the problem.

 

_ The Hux-child is yours. I have said, and thus it shall be. _

 

And yet Kylo felt him slipping away, floating far adrift and out of his reach. The little control he had left, he had traded away, and now where was he? Kylo looked around in a panic. Where was he? He couldn't say if he meant himself or Armitage, didn't think there should be a difference. He felt the pull in his bones, a bizarre spice in his mouth and a trembling in his limbs he hadn't felt before- that he couldn't remember. 

Why couldn't he remember? Why didn't he know? Kylo should, he should, and if he hadn't killed Ben Solo, if he hadn't failed his Master in the beginning, if, if, if.

The ghost of Ben Solo danced behind his eyes.

Images of days he hadn't lived through were flashing across his vision before Kylo could make sense of them. In his mind, Armitage was above him, his hands around his neck, and he was choking. There was a sea of red and gold and many colors, light that he wanted, and darkness that engulfed him instead; a nightmare, a memory. These visions had happened, they were real- but what did they mean?

_ Be still, _ chided his Master, and Kylo felt the need to listen, to settle and obey. He yearned to do the opposite. Kylo suddenly wanted so badly to question and struggle and understand. Such were traits and worries he'd never had before- it was enough that Armitage understood; with that, he was content to follow and be satisfied.  _ Rebellion in our blood _ , something whispered, daydreams of a field of corpses and crushing guilt skirting his mind. These were thoughts from somewhere far away that he couldn't see, regrets of someone cast in a haze within his mind. Someone he was closer to than ever before.

The walls were thinning between him and the past, between the person he was and the one he should be. As those shields gradually faded, sensations were returning. The distress of their physical proximity was excruciating now, where it had only been an inconvenience before. Ben's shadow of wanting was stronger than ever, an unbearable itch that his nails couldn't claw deep enough to sate. The need was scrambling his thoughts to pandamonium. He was feverish and riddled with anxiety. It was encompassing, body and heart both.

Kylo felt as though he were losing his mind. 

_ The bond, _ came the thought.

He didn't know what that meant.

 

_ Kylo, _ bade his Master again.  _ Be  _ still.

 

Despite the blinding want and the fight in his heart, he listened. He settled. He obeyed. Suddenly, Kylo felt that the things that confused him were of little importance, the shades of memory held no merit and everything would be easier, easier, easier if he just let things be, trust his Master, seek out his reward. That was what he wanted, he wanted things to be easy again, and his Master could make it so. These were his thoughts, all his own. He was safe on the  _ Absolution. _ Armitage would be with him soon, just like he wanted, and all he had to do was listen and be good. Was that not simple? Was he so incompetent, so worthless and infantile that he couldn't be patient? There was a bad feeling in his heart. No, no, he wasn't. He could be good. He wanted to.

Right?

Kylo felt himself relaxing, the racing panic ebbing away to exhaustion. Armitage was coming home to him, just as he had asked, and wasn't his Supreme Leader gracious and benevolent for providing him? Was Armitage not worth the inconvenience? If Kylo wasn't willing to trust even a little, he must not want him as badly as-  _ no. _ Armitage was worth everything. Armitage  _ was   _ everything.

Kylo was still.

 

\-------

 

The ship was smaller than the one they'd left Kamino in, probably a personal shuttle, and so there was no way for them to avoid one another in a physical sense. Instead, Armitage and the General sat squished on either end of the back as a hired pilot flew, something Armitage thought ironic. Here, the man ordered ships and couldn't fly one. Pathetic.

It was strange, knowing what he knew now about where he'd come from. It was strange being able to look at his father, his biological parent, and know that a man he'd admired and respected, sought praise from, had even aspired to emulate once, had used children to accomplish terrible ends. It was different in the context if the Academy. Armitage had been trained to be a machine. He had been raised in a very distinctly kill-or-be-killed environment; if he used others, it was because he had been taught to disassociate, though something in him said he knew better. Brendol Hux had been brought up in no such fashion. It was he and his who established the Academy- he had even been a main benefactor in its early years. His father had no excuse. 

His mother had been a child, Rhona had said. A young girl, his age, a  _ child _ , and the man before him had used her to kill. He had groomed her into a place of vulnerability and affection and- and he had probably taken her life. The teenagers in his orbit were brutal, to be certain, but he knew enough to feel, deeply, that a sixteen year old girl, sixteen or eighteen or wherever, should not have been with a man in his mid thirties, his forties, not like that. No one his own age should have a child of their own. Armitage tried to picture Phasma with a baby. He couldn't do it, though she was certainly physically able. He tried to imagine how discovering such an affair would made him feel, how angry he would be to find that a teacher or a high ranking officer had somehow tricked Phasma into a sense of security and-

They may have been on bad terms, and Phasma was too smart for her own good, but if anything like that had happened to her, if just one of the many people who had tried had succeeded in hurting her, Armitage would have blood on his hands and he would not have hidden it. That had been his mother. 

He was unfamiliar with what a nuclear family dynamic would look like, couldn't piece together how one would even operate, but he thought of he and Kylo watching over their sector, teaching them and guiding them, helping them grow. It had to be like that, didn't it?

Just as he had felt a connection by blood alone to his father, he felt one between he and his mother, too. There was some biological sentiment ingrained in him, something natural that no Academy could stamp out. 

Not far from him sat his father. Not far from him sat his mother's killer. It was strange to him, that one title meant more than the other. Ben would have been amused, he thought. He would have told him something like,  _ Of course, AR. Hate can win against anything, if you let it. _

Ben. He had been thinking of him more personally lately, feeling the bond in subtle ways he couldn't since Kylo woke up. It had started that morning on the roof, training for evaluation with so much hope. He had looked out over the horizon and sensed Ben nearby, felt the call of the storm and tasted the power in it. It used to hurt to think about, the emptiness screaming at him, always, but that space wasn't empty anymore. With focus, he thought he could feel something there, and it comforted him. 

It was stressful being away from Kylo, like always, but physically feeling it made it a good pain. It wasn't just a mental crutch or a way of coping with grief. The Force was real, the bond had been  _ real, _ and because of that, he could ground himself in it. He could keep sane _. _ Armitage was headed for the  _ Absolution.  _ He couldn't say why the Supreme Leader would want him, but he knew a certain apprentice who would. He was headed back to Kylo, his right hand; there was no other explanation. As soon as he got there, he would be at Kylo's side and the Academy, the betrayal, all of it would be behind him. Nothing mattered in the face of planetary separation. He would never be so far from Kylo again, and especially not if the bond was somehow mending between them. Maybe, in time, they could be as intimate mentally as he and Ben had been. It would be different, wanting it. There would be no frenzied acts of irrational passion, no primitive aggression or need. Their dreams would be peaceful. Their scapes would be beautiful. Nothing but death could break them apart.

 

\---------

 

Shattered mirrors reflect different light.

Kylo Ren and Ben Solo were the same in body, and were once the same in mind. In severing one trait from another, cherry picking the pieces he needed, Snoke had created a new champion from the scraps of the old, his very own monster. He had let him explore, observed his thought patterns and his natural growth within a controlled environment, just in case. He had misjudged Solo once before, he would not give himself the opportunity to do so again.

Kylo had proved, at his heart, to be obedient, observant, patient, and humble. Above all, though, he was angry, angry and completely under his own control. Ben had been passionate and violent, and while Kylo could be just as violent, it was clinical and removed. There was little pain in it, and thus, little power. The worst pain or anger Snoke had seen him in was once, when he had nearly disemboweled the little blonde girl, and later, sobbing like a child at the Evaluation Center. Neither of these had lent him strength. Without those few key parts of Solo, parts he had tried to carve out, the boy was useless.

Snoke needed his warrior. He needed all of him.

Armitage Hux had grown, though, the only benefit to this beyond gaining access to the bond itself. He had been strong before, but now he was stronger, strong enough to build his own little shields and put thoughts in Kylo Ren's head. He had grown hateful, too; apparently, he had quite the affinity for it. The boy was not kind. He was not merciful. He loved and loved fiercely, but not even his closest companionship were above his ambition. Snoke had tasted his goals, knew of all his wicked little plans to seize power, size control over everything. He wanted to remake the worlds of the galaxy, destroy the crooked order and rebuild it for himself.

Snoke would never allow such a thing to happen, of course. That was what Ren was for, but he did adore the sentiment. That was the spirit he needed in Ren, the intelligence and determination and ruthlessness of his partner. Armitage Hux was useful, had made himself a bargaining chip in Snoke’s repossession of Kylo’s mind, and for it, he would be rewarded.

Everything was going according to plan, all of the pieces falling back into place.

Restore the bond as he saw fit, restore his champion as he required him to be, restore the galaxy to order. Kylo Ren would be the cornerstone of his military, would lead and fight and conquer. Armitage Hux would be his guide, his counterpart and speaker. Snoke couldn't care less for their personal affairs; whatever their dynamic had to be, he would make it so, but there was no question in the matter. The Order needed them both. 

To do that, naturally, Armitage would have to die in a meditative state and be drawn under his control, but with Kylo Ren as he was now, so firmly under his Master’s hold, the hiccups of Snoke’s last attempt would be impossible to stumble into. Kylo Ren would near-kill the boy and Snoke would take what he needed, give them all the power their little black hearts desired.

Everyone would live happily ever after. 


	16. Exaltation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A gift, a prison, a promise, a lie

 

“It is a gift,” Master's voice boomed in his ears. His head hung low in uncertain humility; the boy probably couldn't have lifted it if he tried. The ground shook with the sound and his heart lept into his throat with foreboding.

“May you never again forget who you are,” proclaimed the monstrous being. The low notes of his tone dripped inky fondness. “My champion.”

Ben looked at the dais. Kylo looked at the mask it cradled in swaths of black. Should he wear it, as he was obligated to do, it would hide him. The conflict in his heart would be irrelevant with that mask- to accept it would be to abandon every question. To accept it, he would become what the Supreme Leader asked of him. And who was that?

The walls in his mind had dissipated, gradually and yet not. No matter how slowly things had trickled into his consciousness, he still found himself overwhelmed by the conflicting perspectives floating in his mind, the misplaced outrage and distress. Still, it felt distinct, what was Ben's and what was not. He would experience these fleeting thoughts of bitterness and violence without an ounce of Armitage in them. Those were Ben. Kylo had only sought to hurt those that hurt his partner. Ben wanted to hurt everyone. 

He sensed power all around him, thick as mud, and dark. The Force. There was this odd, underlying shock of power tugging him somewhere far away, a longing. Master had told him it was something called a ‘bond’, the promise that kept he and Armitage together. He told Snoke of the headaches, the bells, the horrible sicknesses he had been experiencing. Something in him felt compelled to be truthful, Kylo couldn't say what.

 

_ Master is always honest. There is nothing to fear _ .

 

And so he'd told him. Master had frowned; the pressure of evil in the room had only weighed heavier on him with the alien’s displeasure. The large bell was the influence of the weak Ben Solo, a light user, a vile traitor, and something to be disregarded. The small bell was nothing, an external force trying to rally him to disobedience. Kylo was to pay neither any mind, should they persist. Now that the shields had been shattered, Master had said, all of the pieces should sort themselves out. Kylo would make the right decision, he had been sure, as what to keep and what to cast away.

While most of Solo was a waste, there were pieces Master claimed Kylo needed. Ben was angry. Kylo needed that. He was passionate, more so than Kylo, and Snoke insisted he needed that, too. The tinge of rebellion and independence couldn't be cut out, not without rendering him useless- and the honesty in that had stung him.

And so, looking at the mask before him, as Snoke had left him with it, Kylo -Ben?- was unsure how to proceed.

Armitage was no longer the only person in his life. Armitage was no longer an angel to him. His memory was shards of betrayal and frustration, mingled with the joys of his more recent weeks at the Academy. Armitage had spurned Ben, rejected him, humiliated him, just as he'd loved, uplifted, and nurtured Kylo, and the conflict of that refused settle. There was deep remorse mixed in, too, from the boy trapped behind the glass, as Ben had watched and seen with dismay the pain Armitage had suffered.

He had to trust his Master. Everything in him said no, but for one reason or another, if he got riled up enough, tempted to leave, a sense of soothing would fall over him and Kylo couldn't help but let that anger drift towards another target.  He would be reminded of his parents, Those People, and of Luke Skywalker, That Man, and of how wonderful his Master must be to give him his Armitage, just like he wanted. 

 

And it was wonderful. Armitage was coming home to him, and would be his, for always. Put together, the parts of this sentence pleased all the fragments of his soul. His mind, once a vast ocean, was a forest of jagged obsidian. When he meditated, he walked through it seeking the lights that once glowed under the surface of his conscious mind. There were none to be found. Instead, there were ropes of thin wire, red hot, that cut sharply through the landscape, in between the lifeless pillars and burning brilliant as a red star, making up for the endless empty night above him. For all the love he possessed, so far the wires lead him nowhere. They disappeared into the black pikes of hate piercing all around him, tinged with venom and confusion. In his dreams, his hands were wet with his tears and mingled with the blood of those he had slaughtered so heartlessly, and Armitage was nowhere to be found.

 

_ Is it not wonderful? Do you wish to be broken? _

 

His Master would have him kill Armitage, though not forever. Kylo didn't understand. He was appalled, though Ben didn't seem terribly concerned. Master said they were too different now to be mentally compatible, that this would restore what had been lost.

 

_ Do you wish to be alone? Would you have him cast back to the ether and dealt with by the General? _

 

Kylo accepted the mask.

  
  
  


The  _ Absolution  _ had a main bridge, like all major bases, and as Hux stood on the end, staring at the other side, he found that no distance had ever felt longer or more trying. The General had long handed him over to a pack of Stormtroopers that, for now, were all taller than him. They marched down the hall in their formation, one Hux recognized from the Academy. He had taught it many times. Surrounded by faceless men and women, though, he found himself falling into step where others may have felt pushed or ushered along. It was a mindless thing. Despite the habit of it, he couldn’t help being distracted. Armitage felt buzzed with energy, with shaking hands and a violent urge to  _ move _ , more than just walking in time. Kylo was stationed somewhere on this ship, waiting for him. Kylo was here. His heart raced in anticipation. They could forget about all of this and move on, finally. There was stability. On the ship, there was a plan, an agenda, a war to be won. At long last, there would be nothing standing in the way of him and his second- well, Kylo probably outranked him now, but still. Kylo was the Supreme Leader Jr. He could do anything he wanted, including Armitage, should it please him. And it did. It must, or why would he be summoned here? His pace was unusually fast, the excitement spurring his step and the pull of the bond dragging him forward across the bridge, narrowly avoiding walking into the soldier ahead of him. He wasn’t being proper, he knew that. He knew this was an image of himself he needed to make up for in the future, as he meant to one day command this ship, but for now, Armitage was running on feeling alone.

The Troopers deposited him at a door somewhere in the maze of the  _ Absolution _ , and one swiped a keycard. The group parted for him to enter, all of the black, soulless voids of the masks’ glasses trained on him. He stared back. When no one said anything, blasters nonchalantly gesturing to the threshold, he steeled himself for whatever- or whoever -was inside with a deep breath. Alone, Armitage went in. The door swished shut behind him with finality.

A figure in black stood a few meters away, a tall man in a helmet and a strict posture, an odd soldier. The headpiece was a mask of sorts, he guessed, and was distantly reminiscent of Vader, but it was a design Hux didn’t recognize from any class or station in particular. Little was said by way of introduction. He could feel the tension in the air dancing like a live wire, electric. The energy that had coiled in him released all at once, like a spring, and before he knew it, he had practically thrown himself into the arms of who could only be his partner, the masked man in black.

The spiritual reassurance was there, a burst of light behind his eyes at their proximity and a heady warmth thrumming through his veins, but the figure didn’t move to embrace him in turn. His heart fell to the pit of his stomach, mouth sour with dread. Was this not what was expected of him? Did Kylo bring him here for rejection, rather than welcome? Armitage did everything in his power to pull away slowly; the temptation to leap back as if burned was on the forefront of his mind. This was a mistake. Kylo wasn’t holding him, wasn’t saying anything, wasn’t responding.

“Kylo?” He asked, and he hated how weak his voice sounded in his own ears. Nothing. Armitage tried again, quieter, as he vainly searched the black mask for any hint of emotion. He hated it. He couldn’t read anything from him through metal and plastic, and even the bond was a muddy fog of sensation, nothing in particular standing out, no discernable emotion. “...Ben?”

Armitage sighed. Perhaps there were orders in place, things he didn’t know about.

The atmosphere had changed considerably. Where Armitage had been excited and relieved, he now felt awkward and upset. His body language had become withdrawn in response to Kylo's apparent indifference, curling in on himself ever so subtlety and avoiding the unseen eyes of his partner. After a few moments, he dared ask, “Do you remember me?”

The figure nodded, and Hux could have cried from relief. At least it wasn't like before- he couldn't bear that, not again.

“I remember everything,” came a low, automated voice. It was Kylo, but distorted, bizarre and mechanical. Hux didn't like it.

“Can you…” the redhead trailed off. He was going to suggest removing the helmet, when it crossed his mind that perhaps, like Vader, Kylo had been put through some kind of conditioning or disfigurement. The First Order was a violent place at the bottom; he wouldn't be surprised to find brutality at its helm. Then another question. “You remember how we met? In the cabins?”

Kylo nodded.

“You remember the bathroom?” he tried again, tentatively. Another nod. Armitage frowned deeply, agitated. “Say something, I know you can.”

Silence. Armitage licked his teeth and his fingertips tapped absently against his arm in a tick of frustration. “You're being childish,” he jabbed petulantly, baiting. Kylo's hands clenched into fists and relaxed, brushing him off as surely as though he'd walked away.

“What's  _ wrong  _ with you?”

Kylo flinched with the intensity of feeling radiating off of him like rays from a sun, Armitage's every thought punching hard into his mind. Master had said it might be like this, when he restored the bond, but Kylo hadn't realized Hux had missed him so much- he thought he'd never see him again. On the forefront of Hux’s mind, he could see their parting on Kamino, on the ice, how Hux had lied to his face as Kylo babbled like a baby, begging him to stay. He could see that last night, how they'd talked until dawn. The first night they spoke, really spoke, when Kylo demanded an equal partnership. The first day, crying over the body of a dead boy, Armitage had looked into those eyes and seen someone else. 

It was overwhelming, the darkness and misery bleeding into the air with a Force he hadn't experienced much before, but Kylo couldn't help but find it familiar. His memories were jumbled with Ben's, as puzzle pieces that had been cut and mutilated so they no longer fit. Kylo saw Hux and saw someone he adored, longed to protect, needed. Ben saw someone he owned, someone obligated to him, forever.

Those feelings weren't congruent. 

Nothing was, in fact, and with Armitage before him now, knowing everything that had come before- the coldness, the passion, the ferocity -Kylo couldn't piece together any adequate response. What could he possibly say, other than  _ I know _ ?

“What's wrong?” Hux repeated, and Kylo could feel him breaking. His dear lieutenant had been strong this whole time, through the past three months of hell and a reshaped reality, ultimately building up to this moment, here, and it had more than just fallen flat. It was crushing; crushing them both, one with guilt and the other, exhaustion. Ben could feel the pull of the red hot wire, dragging Armitage in. They could be one, soon. Part of him was ecstatic, the other pained, for to see him broken as Kylo was broken rent his soul.

The former lieutenant rephrased the question.

“What's wrong with  _ me _ ?” It was a whimper. Armitage couldn't do this, whatever it was. He wanted to fling himself into space and freeze. There was nothing for him on Kamino, nothing on Arkanis, and nothing here. Nothing anywhere. Ben was dead and Kylo didn't love him anymore, Phasma had kicked him to the curb. There was nowhere to go, no one to turn to. He'd be better off if he had just stepped off the roof-

Kylo made a strained noise. Would it really be like this all the time? This flurry of negativity, buffeting him on all sides and demanding his attention? There was so much fear and resolution, so much pain. Kylo was beside himself.

“Use your words, you cretin,” Armitage slurred halfheartedly.

 

_ I don't know how, _ rang Kylo's voice in his mind, more a feeling than a sound.  _ I don't know which ones to use. _

 

Hux shook his head. “Take off the mask. I need to see you, whoever’s under there. I need to hear your voice.”

Kylo braced himself. For the last few days, he'd worn this mask always. Master had said it was to protect him, meant to hold his mind together like a bandage closed a wound. Armitage looked at him, though, eyes almost green in the fluorescent light- had they always been green? Had blue only been a reflection of the water? -and Kylo couldn't bring himself to let Ben resist. Armitage was everything, and he wanted the mask off. Force help him, Kylo would let him have it.

The sudden pressure of air on his face nearly made him gasp, the breath in his lungs sparked cold and unfiltered. Armitage stared at him, twisted with emotion.

Kylo remembered the day Ben had broken though those walls and shattered the infrastructure of Hux's mind. Armitage felt all of those emotions overruling his thoughts because of Ben. He felt out of control because of Ben. All the pain he could no longer bear was entirely Ben's fault, and yet it was that same fault that allowed him to love Kylo as deeply as he had.

He didn't know how to feel about it.

“Don't you need me anymore?” Armitage asked softly.

“I,” he cleared his throat, mouth suddenly dry as small spots of light and warmth pricked at the bond. Without the mask on, the crackle of energy had spiked through the roof, and Kylo could taste it. “...More than you know.”

If he moved, Kylo was sure he'd break the spell. When Armitage took his hand, he let him. His fingers twitched to squeeze it, testing the solidity of Armitage's flesh. He was real, and his heart could break from relief. Armitage guided that hand to his waist and held it there. Kylo obeyed as another hand took his chin, breath caught and dizzying as suddenly, Hux was close enough to breath the same air. He was so warm and light and fragile against him, so very there. Kylo could break him with his hands. Ben could break him with the Force. Still, both cradled him as a treasure, bewildered by the bright eyes searching the depths of his soul.

“I need you, Kylo Ren,” his voice was calm and even. Kylo nodded. He hadn't realized he was shaking quite so much, but Armitage smiled at it, a little half smile that sent a knife through him.

Hux kissed him then, and skin to skin, under Snoke’s careful dictation, the spiritual channel between them was rekindled once and for all.

  
  


“It’s different,” Armitage said after a long while, bleakly. His voice echoed off of the black glass and he wrapped his arms about himself. It was so cold. The tar-like earth beneath his feet made him shudder with revulsion, squelching thickly with every step. Kylo didn’t say a word in response, and it left the redhead colder. Armitage was the only warm thing in the whole space, aside from the red hot wires scissoring them in and blocking their paths this way and that. In his heart, he pined for the motion and the fluidity of their scape before, a perfect mesh of their minds. This, he had no idea how to interpret. It was dark and cold and dangerous, primitive in style and fashion, and unwelcoming in every way. Nothing about it made him feel safe, even with the addition of their trademarked swirling thunderclouds creating a silvery haze about their knees, low as a fog.

“I don’t like it here,” he said again, vying for some kind of reassurance. “Can’t we change it back? Can’t you?”

“I...Master wouldn’t like it,” Kylo murmured. Hux hummed in response, but didn’t argue. His partner had indicated no preference either way, though there was no enthusiasm about showing him the composition of their new bond. In waking life, they were seated facing one another in the closed room they’d been lended, eyes closed and breathing even as, together, they searched what was supposed to be their spiritual home. This forest of teeth was supposed to be them, what they made together. Often, Hux had dreamed of building a scape with Kylo, had wondered what it would be like, but now that he had it, it chilled him considerably. Perhaps Kylo wasn’t who he thought he was; perhaps they weren’t as perfect as he had imagined. 

“I’ve seen enough,” Armitage managed, dark thoughts clouding his head and dampening his mood. Kylo was different, more so than he had been prepared for. “--Kylo, come on,” he urged impatiently, and was immediately hit with a tidal wave of nausea as the elder boy knocked them violently from the scape.

Armitage winced in discomfort and shoved at Kylo’s shoulder, snarling with displeasure. He was all kinds of out of sorts. Nothing he had expected was coming through, and it was getting to him now. Ever since they had parted on Kamino, Kylo had changed so radically, and for what felt like the first time, Armitage was an outsider to it. He had no idea what he was thinking or feeling, and for once he very nearly had no desire to know. The moment they had kissed, he had been filled with a twisted sense of weariness and upset, and he thought meditating would help- Ben had done so often, and he missed their lovely beach and sea of stars. But no. It was dead and gone, like everything else seemed to be. Like his mother, like his friendship with Phasma, like Ben, and nothing made sense anymore. He felt...angry. It was a loud, destructive anger rather than the smoldering burn he had so often used to fuel his thoughtful revenge. This anger wanted to lash out and kick and yell at the unfairness. He had worked so hard! He had been patient, had been diligent, had been caring against everything in his nature and now all of his rewards, his trophies, his spoils were lost. Armitage didn’t have the energy to hurt, to cry, or to mope anymore. He didn’t have it in him to be depressed and self-loathing. He couldn’t bring himself to mourn, had done too much of it already. Weeks, months of it, and it was the sudden spark of rage at the effort of those months that had him on his feet.

“Where do you train?”

“Why?” Kylo was frowning up at him, still cross legged on the sleek floor. His eyes widened as he understood, a thrum of recognition reverberating through the bond. “I can’t let you do that.”

Armitage scowled. “Like Hoth,” he spat. “He saved me, I want to know why.”

Kylo was shaking his head, “Armitage-”

“I need to know what it costs, Kylo. I need to know what I’m paying.”

He may as well have slapped him. Kylo flinched and shied gently away, torn in his mind by the parts of him that wanted to fight back and by the parts that wanted to hide. Armitage didn’t reply, but instead stalked to the keypad and mashed buttons until it let him through, marching out. Kylo didn’t follow, didn’t want to make it worse, didn’t want to disobey his Master and interfere. It was a good thing. It was according to plan.

 

The air was clearer outside, the lights brighter and ground more solid. He took a deep breath. He needed to find out what was going on. He had nothing to lose but his life, and of what value was that? All he had been fighting for, for himself, for Kylo, for his father, had all turned out to be so much less than he had believed. A pang of guilt hit him suddenly. Their relationship had been odd, certainly, and especially now, but Kylo had been good to him. They had both lost themselves, one on Arkanis and the other on the  _ Absolution.  _ It was only Armitage who was wreaking havoc now, only he who was unsatisfied. More than ever, he resented that. It wasn't Kylo's fault he was like this, not his fault he couldn't stand to adapt anymore. No, but he needed to know how to move forward from here, or he'd lose his mind. That, without the weight of his shattered expectations pressing down on his throat. He needed to reevaluate, reexamine the facts of the situation and then factor in his emotion after. These were the things he could say without a doubt were true: several months ago, he had been transferred into a new division by his father, where he had been stationed as Lieutenant over an S5 Combat Specialty unit and the notorious SV1632. His name was Ben. Ben was argumentative, insubordinate, and infuriating. They had developed an attachment of sorts related somehow to Ben’s Force-powers, and became both emotionally as well as physically intimate. In a training gone awry, they had fought, Armitage had blacked out, and Ben was injured. When he woke, he suffered some bizarre form of amnesia that included a name change and an odd disposition to silence. Everything Armitage hated about Ben was no long apparent, and they got along much better. Their level of intimacy both physically and emotionally lead to a clouding of judgement on Armitage's part, and resulted ultimately in his expulsion from the Academy. He had been exiled to Arkanis, where he had learned irrelevant information regarding his biological past, and was later called by Supreme Leader Snoke to the main base for reasons likely involving his apprentice and Armitage’s ex-lover, Kylo Ren, also known as Ben Solo. 

Facts.

So much had happened at this point, that Armitage was liable to throw out the whole lot and move on. He didn’t care what had happened on Arkanis, he didn’t care what had happened during Evaluations, he didn’t care about the black water and the island and the bond. He just wanted his command, a job to do, and a reward for doing it right. Kylo- Ben? Whoever he was, was too much to handle right now, not again. It was all too much. If he could, he wanted to forget the finer details. He had never wanted love, had never wanted romance or drama or commitment. Always, he had had one, singular goal, and it was to be stationed as military personnel on this very ship, where he could step out his subordinates and become Admiral, or even Senator. Truthfully, he wanted to someday own the title Supreme Leader, and then he would be satisfied. He would bring order to the galaxies, the universe, and  grind his enemies to dust. He would bring peace. Maybe, somewhere, Kylo fit in that ideal future. Kylo could be his second, forever reliable and indebted to him. Maybe, in that day, they could rekindle what had been found and lost on Kamino. Until then, however, there was only one goal he could pursue with a clear head, and that was success. So far, Kylo Ren had only brought torment and misfortune, nevermind the heartbreak and angst.

He would go and confront his Master, as Kylo called him, and ask for his mercy. He would advocate for his ascension, and hopefully, when Snoke looked into his heart and saw his deepest wish, the Supreme Leader would find it in himself to grant it.

 

Snoke had not expected this to go as easily as it had. Children were often stubborn, but easily guided, he supposed, and with such power in his hands, he could foster them into men of his cloth. Armitage Hux had ceased prying at the mind of his lover. In fact, he appeared to be shying away from it, pulling himself from the bond as much as possible. Distress and confusion was radiating off of his apprentice, distracting him as he pined after the completion and companionship he had lost. That wouldn’t do. No, Snoke would teach him to use it, wield it into raw, destructive energy and bend it to his will. The fate of Armitage Hux would go according to his original plan, which still stood despite all the odds against it. He would serve as companion to Kylo Ren, and their bond would fuel the war effort in blood and misery. If that meant they themselves were bloody and miserable, so be it, the better for the cause. The doors of his chambers opened, a massive room he had designed and constructed for the purpose of holding his hologram. In came a Trooper or two, leading the shivering Hux-child and promptly leaving him, small and alone in the expanse of obsidian tile. Snoke couldn’t help a smile.

“Do not fear, young one,” he cooed, adoring. “I see what it is you seek. Confess your plight to me and I will help you.”

He could see the gears turning in his head, hear the whirring of the bells in his mind chiming and fighting against the relief he felt at his welcome. My Master will help me, they seemed to cry, perhaps this will be alright.

Cute.

Armitage was still standing, pale and dumbstruck, when Snoke lifted a hand to urge him to speak. The fear and awe rippling through the Force was sweet music.

“Supreme Leader,” he began shakily, and his voice broke, poor thing. He trembled like a leaf, his eyes downcast and wide. “If you see as you say, then you know what I would ask. If it would please you, sir,” Armitage added quickly, “I would that you grant it, so I may serve the Order to my full potential.”

The ice of malignant energy was heavy, condensing Hux’s already small frame to nothing. His voice was soft and tiny, no amount of pride or bravery enough to cut through the darkness of Snoke’s aura and power. If he had Kylo here, at his full strength, if they came against him, the alien may have had a true fight on his hands. If he hadn’t so expertly separated them, chopped them up and thrown them together as he had, Armitage may have come in with his head high, standing tall and firm. As it was, though, he was no more than a presumptuous child, feeling more and more inadequate as Snoke waited, watching him squirm. 

“Should I grant this wish, you would do all I say, bend to my every will, and use the greatness I lend you to bring glory to the Order?”

Armitage hesitated.

“You would become my champion, Hux-child?”

There was a breath, and he nodded once with finality, bright eyes staring up at his shadow with an urgency and earnestness that Snoke prized. This was what he needed. At last, his arsenal would be complete.

“And so it pleases me,” The Supreme Leader hummed. 

Armitage would never know how much.


	17. Sanctuary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We all do what we understand to be best.  
> Sometimes that means nothing at all.

 The days bled into one another. Years followed. Phasma did her best to put AR out of her mind, but she had never known loneliness before, nor guilt. He had made it clear that things couldn't be as they were, and her gut instinct was anger, but like all things, when it came to Armitage, it had to be different.

There were other Victors on the ship, honors graduates from previous years, but Phasma didn't have the heart to flesh out new allies.  Rumour had it that the General's son was aboard, and every now and again, she caught a glimpse of red hair, brilliant against the blacks and whites of the  _ Absolution _ . The General was a pathetic man, but a hard one, and Phasma had gotten what she wanted. She had title and connections and prestige, and amazingly enough, Armitage seemed to have garnered the same for himself. If she could find him, she would ask again his forgiveness; he shared a bed with the apprentice of the Supreme Leader, or had, at least. She couldn't say if that had stayed true.

She ran into Kylo less and less. He was away training often, and had moved out of their shared quarters shortly after their arrival. She was glad to be rid of him, the menace. His wreckage was everywhere, evidence of his fits lying in constant repairs and a mounting body count. The chaos of the Ben Solo of her youth was back. Trouble in paradise, apparently. 

Whatever quiet manner had possessed him in their last semester of the Academy had faded to unrest and upset, ambition, heartbreak. Whatever confidence and passion had overcome Armitage had settled into icy indifference, pained inadequacy and isolated competition. Neither spoke, not to each other, not to her. Neither confided, neither loved, and for a long time, they grew this way, housed in a shattered bond.

The champions of their Master, they shaped a new Order, struggling along the same path. Their kingdom, they built upon exhausted ambition, the walls of which towered and overshadowed all aspects of life.  Beneath their feet they trampled the ruins of cathedrals, the bells of whom had bent and rusted away, and no longer chimed.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is always nice! Hit me up if you've got questions or suggestions.


End file.
